


it was you, it has always been you

by KodzuCatt



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Fluff, Haikyuu!! Manga Spoilers, Light Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-22
Updated: 2020-12-22
Packaged: 2021-03-11 04:15:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 23,800
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28228998
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KodzuCatt/pseuds/KodzuCatt
Summary: Kenma hated the concept of soulmates. He hated having to wait to find out who his soulmate was, he hated not having control over it, and he hated feeling so much anxiety about it.But what he hated the most was being in love with Kuroo and not knowing if he was his soulmate.
Relationships: Kozume Kenma/Kuroo Tetsurou
Comments: 13
Kudos: 113
Collections: Kuroken Christmas Exchange 2020





	it was you, it has always been you

**Author's Note:**

  * For [fizzii](https://archiveofourown.org/users/fizzii/gifts).



> Sooooo this is my gif for [Fia](https://twitter.com/kuroozume) for the exchange!!!! I know it's a bit long, y'know kuroken brainrot went brrr and things happened dfjhdfjh it was reaaaally fun to write ((I had never written a soulmate au lmao)) and... well, i'm really happy to be one of yours secret santas!!
> 
> About this soulmate AU: a unrequited soulmate is when a person is your soulmate, but you aren't that person's soulmate. This can happen when a person has more than one soulmate (the mark only shows one name) or when it is a one-sided connection (as in one-sided crushes). 
> 
> In addition, the mark appears in moments of strong emotional connection, so it can appear at any age (it's more common to happen during high school or college)

Kenma stared at his naked body in the mirror, looking for the damn mark, but found nothing different. He sighed, turning to the pile of clothes he had left on the toilet seat, starting to dress up lazily.

_ Without a mark, there is nothing to worry about. _

Spring break was over, and the first day of his sophomore year in high school was off to a good start, at least by his standards. The alarm had gone off at the scheduled time, and he hadn't stayed up late playing MonHun the night before—his mom had warned him that she would take the PSP away if she saw him with eye bags the next morning—not to mention that his soulmate mark still didn't show up. Of all that, the latter was the only thing that concerned Kenma, being something that haunted him day and night, no matter how much he tried to ignore it.

"Without a mark, there's nothing to worry about," Kenma repeated to himself in a whisper, putting on his sweater.

Kenma took one last look at his reflection,  fixing his half-bleached hair with his fingers , trying to make it look decent before exiting the bathroom. In his room, he put his PSP, its charger, and his phone in his backpack and hung it over his shoulder to leave his room. His parents had left for work early, so he had the house to himself. 

He went downstairs, heading straight for the kitchen. He wasn't hungry, so he only got the orange juice his mom had bought over the weekend out of the fridge and took a couple of sips straight from the bottle. After having breakfast—if he could call it that way—he grabbed his keys and left the house, closing the door behind him.

Kenma hadn’t made his way down the front steps when a tall, wild-haired figure appeared in his line of vision causing his heart to skip a beat.

“Hey, Kenma!” Kuroo greeted him from the sidewalk, one of his typical long smirks tugging at the corners of his lips. “I see you were able to wake up on your own.” 

"Mm-hmm." Kenma felt his heart racing against his throat, but somehow he managed to draw strength to move his feet and walk to his best friend, who by no means lost his smile . Kuroo had the first button of his shirt unbuttoned and the knot of his tie loose,  revealing his tanned ski n from which Kenma had trouble taking his eyes off.

“Did you have breakfast?” Kuroo asked casually. The older one had a habit of bending down a little when talking to him so that Kenma caught the gaze of his keen amber eyes. 

“Yes, I did.”

"Hmm, you smell like that orange juice your mom buys," Kuroo replied, narrowing his eyes. “Y’know you must eat well, Kenma, otherwise you won’t have enough energy for the rest of the day, and you'll get sick. Your body needs the nutrients and vitamins from a balanced diet.”

"Uh-huh," he replied, looking away. They had had that same discussion so many times, it was almost a routine; so why did his heart seem about to explode now? 

“We're going to be late because of you.”

"Hey, don't change the subject." Kenma grunted,  walking towards the train station . Behind him, he could hear Kuroo's footsteps following him. “Hey, don't ignore me!”

"Don’t be a crybaby and walk."

“Kenma!”

Kenma growled, and Kuroo gave one of his loud laughs, reaching his side within a couple of strides and changing the conversation to a less annoying one. So began an ordinary school day, like the ones they had had since they met in elementary school, except for one small and insignificant detail: Kenma's feelings.

It was a night during the holidays where, after answering Kuroo's message—they had a habit of texting when the older one went to his uncles during the last two weeks of spring break—and staring at the ceiling of his room for a while, that Kenma realized what he was feeling. The tingling he felt in his stomach every time he saw that idiot was not a thing of childhood friends. He had romantic feelings for Kuroo that, aside from unexpected, were hard to ignore.

In a different reality, Kenma might have been happy; who was better than Kuroo to be with him? Someone who knew him perfectly, who always seemed to know the right words to say to him at the right times, who listened to him despite not understanding what he was talking about, who cared about him and managed to bring calm even in the darkest days. Yes, the idea that he liked his best friend was not a problem in itself—he had already overcome the initial crisis of the discovery—the problem lied upon something else.

He didn't know if Kuroo was his soulmate.

Actually, Kenma didn't attach much importance to this kind of thing. The idea of soulmates and the logic of the marks —which appeared during "emotional connections that transcended time and space"— seemed a rather inconvenient issue in general, but that did not mean that he wasn’t concerned about the appearance of his own mark; he was, at least a little. Usually, it was easier to ignore. The only times Kenma remembered its existence—or, well, its  _ null _ existence—were when he passed in front of the mirror to shower, but with those new feelings, his head had become a mess.

What if the mark appeared, and it wasn't Kuroo? Being with someone other than Kuroo seemed absurd and even somewhat terrifying, and his nerves were holding on to a halt. More, there was the possibility that Kuroo's mark was not him, and he was destined to be with someone else, not to mention that they could be one of those rare cases where there was an "unrequited soulmate". Even though Kenma didn't know much about that kind of thing, he felt an overwhelming pain in his chest every time those thoughts ran through his head, so he tried to avoid them.

Although this was difficult since the source of his problems was at his side practically 24 hours a day.

“Is that MonHun?” 

They had caught the train on time, getting into a car so crowded that they could barely find a place in one of the corners. Kenma had his back against the metal wall with his head bowed, and his eyes were fixed on the screen of his PSP, while Kuroo protected him from the other passengers with his body. Their position was routine, though it was now raising Kenma's pulse until he felt his heart beating against his throat. 

Kenma swallowed, way too aware of his own body movements. Maybe it wouldn't have been a bad idea to skip the first day. 

"Uh, yeah," Kenma answered briefly. He could feel Kuroo's face above his head, piercing him with those sharp amber eyes, his breath brushing the roots of his hair. He was  _ too _ close. “I'm finishing a mission that I left pending last night.” 

“Oho-ho? You, Kozume Kenma, leaving a mission from your favorite game pending?” He could imagine the smirk Kuroo probably had on his face, marking that dimple on his left cheek. Kenma's heart skipped a beat. _ Why does the thought of such a natural gesture from his friend turn his legs to jelly?  _

“That’s new,” Kuroo added.

" You're the one who's always fucking around, saying I should go to bed early ," Kenma growled in response, trying to squash the new sensations flooding his body. The two weeks they hadn't seen each other only made things weirder, and the mere thought of losing control did nothing but fill his chest with anxiety. 

"It's not like you ever listened to me before, huh," Kuroo replied, without losing his mocking tone. “What's got into you, that you want to please me?” 

"Nothing, just..." Kenma thought about it for a moment, where the unpleasant sensation of being caught red-handed crept up his throat. "... It was just to stop you from filling my mailbox with messages." 

“Oh, but you love talking to me!”

“You are annoying.” 

“I'm not.” 

“You are.” 

“I'm not.” 

“You are.” 

They argued for a while, until Kenma got tired of answering and returned his attention to his console. The closeness of Kuroo, mixed with his new feelings, made him aware of certain details that he used to overlook before, such as the  inebriating perfume he wore or the heat his body gave off,  making Kenma suffocate at the bubble forming in his chest . The movements of Kuroo’s muscles to keep himself balanced, his biceps marking through the uniform as he held on to one of the bars of the car, his legs –results of years of training – tensing before the movements of the train...

Kenma bit the inside of his cheek hard, forcing his stupid mind to turn his attention back to the game. If he continued down that path he would end up suffering from an aneurysm, or worse: being an easy target for the annoying idiot that Kuroo was.

"Oi, is something wrong?" Kuroo's voice did nothing but make the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. Since when was the journey to Nekoma High School so long? 

“You are acting different.” 

“How so?”

"I don't know... just  _ different _ ." For a moment, Kenma could feel the pulse of his heart against his eardrums, his palms sweating like hell.  _ Was I too obvious? _ He didn't think he had said anything strange, and he had been careful not to raise his face too much or let Kuroo see his face, so  _ how could he have discovered him?  _

"I-I don't know what you're talking about…” 

" Are you nervous about being the new starting setter?” 

"...  _ What?"  _ All the emotional chaos in Kenma's head was blown away. He looked up, blinking a few times. Kuroo was  giving him a serious look , which only made the situation more surreal. 

"It's normal for you to be nervous, being the starting setter is an important position," Kuroo continued, casually, to which Kenma frowned. “Don't make that face, I'm being serious.”

"Uh... I guess," Kenma answered in a whisper, turning his eyes to his console. _ Am I worrying too much? _ Kenma wondered, biting the inside of his cheek as he searched for an answer. As new as his feelings were, he knew Kuroo well: even if he seemed perceptive and provocative, he was still an idiot. “ It's not like I have to do something different from usual .”

"You will have complete control over the team," Kuroo said. “You will be the brain, and we will be the blood.”

"I still think you should change that… _ chant, _ "Kenma murmured without looking up. He started his game, turning his attention back to his characters.

“Do you have a better one?” Kuroo questioned, to which Kenma shrugged. One of the most important differences between Kenma and Kuroo was their opinions about what was ridiculous or not. While one preferred to keep a low profile, the other was able to come up with a chant with nerdy concepts involved and feel proud to the point of reciting it out loud before each game. Maybe it was useful for bonding issues within the team, but it didn't mean that it was less embarrassing. “C’mon, I know deep down you like it.” 

"No, it’s cringy." 

“But it's cool!” Kuroo countered in a tone that left no doubt that he was smiling. Kenma heard the movement of clothes and before he knew what was happening, a long arm wrapped itself around his shoulders, crushing him against the other’s chest. “We're like the blood in our veins…”

“Stop.” Kenma felt his heart roaring in his chest , heat rising up his neck. He would turn red at any moment,  and not only because of the secondhand embarrassment on the fact that his friend was an idiot . 

"We must flow without ever stopping. Keep the oxygen moving…” Kenma squirmed, trying to escape Kuroo's grip. His arm was heavy and gave off a suffocating heat that pierced the fabric of his uniform like it was nothing. In another context it would have even seemed pleasant, but now he felt like he was about to die at any moment. “And our mind working...”

_ “Stop!” _

Kenma's voice rose above the murmurs of the car, causing several glances to turn in their direction. His blood froze, and for a second his heart stopped.  _ Had he spoken so loudly? _ Kenma felt hundreds of eyes on him, and he heard whispers that called his name, judging him because of his appearance, because of his long bleached hair, because he had raised his voice and annoyed others. 

_ Idiot, _ Kenma thought, feeling a wave of relief when the train stopped at the station where they were supposed to get off. He got rid of Kuroo's embrace,  ignoring him, not knowing if he said anything at all, and joined the group of people who got out of the car to get out of there as quick as possible. Kenma felt the tears pool in the corners of his eyes, but he brushed them away with the back of his hand before they could even fall. He had been the one who lost control, he had been the one who was dominated by the whirlwind of feelings and ended up ruining the first day of school.

Between shoves and elbows, Kenma got off the train, biting the inside of his cheek until he felt the metallic taste of his own blood dance in his mouth. He left the station, walking as fast as his feet allowed, hoping that Kuroo couldn't reach him. 

_ You really are an idiot. _

* * *

After the opening ceremony, all the students went to their new classrooms, so Kenma had a small moment of peace — he had been fortunate enough that Kuroo did not look out for him. Following the instructions of the teachers, answering what his classmates asked him, being distracted by the whispers around him, actions that others would consider mundane were enough to keep him away from the hole that was his anxiety.  It kept him from overthinking, from giving so many rounds about the things he did and didn’t do, and gave him moments where he could breathe again and settle his feelings.

The distractions lasted until the class started and silence filled the room, the soft murmurs of pencils on paper being the only sounds. Fortunately by the time everybody got to work, Kenma had calmed down enough not to feel like he would die of a heart attack. Sitting at the desk, his chin resting on his left hand and his pencil on his right, Kenma stared at the blackboard without really doing it, lost in thought. He was still somewhat anxious about what had happened on the train, but he could now keep his head clear and analyze the events from another perspective. 

He had overreacted, there was no doubt about that. Kuroo always respected his limits, never annoying him to the point of triggering his anxiety or making him too angry, so he was not the problem. The new feelings that Kenma had towards him could be a good excuse,  but it wasn't enough to excuse his outburst . Sure, it was easy to say "I found out I like you two weeks ago and that's why I was awful, sorry", and wait for the other part to understand —he didn't doubt that Kuroo would— taking the blame off the chain of unfortunate events... And the fact that he was a complete idiot. 

It was easy, what anyone would do, but Kenma couldn't do something like that – not with Kuroo.

_ It's not like I have the balls to confess either _ , Kenma thought, lifting his chin from his palm when the teacher stopped writing to look at the classroom. Out of sheer reflex, he brought his thumb to his mouth, nibbling on one of the many calluses he had developed after years of playing as a setter.  _ And an apology will not be enough, surely that idiot will be worried. _

A little chill ran up his spine, and Kenma couldn't help but twist his mouth in disgust. Why the fuck should something that always bothered him before now have to feel so...  _ right? _ Kuroo being aware of him was not something new, he had been like that since childhood— at least after that idiot came out of his shell of shyness. Worrying if he had had breakfast, if he was eating well, if he brought an umbrella for rainy days or if he put on sunscreen in the summer; those kinds of things were routine, a constant in Kenma's life that he was used to. The idea of imagining his life without Kuroo's annoying comments was weird, like having insects crawling under his skin. 

_ He's doing it to be a good friend _ , Kenma thought, biting his thumb hard. He felt a strange sting in his chest, and he couldn't help but frown.  _ If I knew how to take care of myself he surely wouldn't say anything, it must be annoying for him. _

Kenma chewed on his finger again, until the pain became stronger than the pricks in his chest. Feelings were certainly strange, and he wasn’t sure he’d be able to tolerate them any longer, so he turned his attention back to the class. He would find a way to apologize without having to give too many explanations. 

The classes went smoothly and without unexpected problems, at least compared to the chaos that was in Kenma's head. 

As the minutes went by, the nervousness within him only increased, to the point where biting the calluses on his fingers did nothing but hurt himself. He ended up with a reddened skin, and a taste of blood in his mouth that did not go away no matter how much he rinsed it off. His heart was beating fast, almost as if he had a tachycardia, and breathing took a greater effort than usual. 

_ Get your shit together _ , Kenma thought, staring at his reflection in the mirror. He was in the toilets on the second floor of the high school, with his backpack slung over his back, water dripping from his face from the several times he had washed it. It was time to leave, and he felt like he was on his way to the slaughterhouse.  _ You just have to apologize, no one has died from an apology.  _

Kenma sighed, smoothing his hair with his fingers before leaving the toilets, plunging into the crowded hallways. The murmurs around him were a disjointed symphony, sometimes about new teachers or exchange students, a distraction Kenma got lost in, returning to calmness. He walked the corridors to the stairs, descending the steps rhythmically, trying to think as little as possible about how his heart beat faster as the danger approached. 

Leaving the building, he found the entire Nekoma volleyball team assembled, chatting out of the way of the other students. Kenma felt a chill run down his spine, had they organized an after school meeting? The guys on the team used to do that, but he was hoping they wouldn't have. 

_ That's what happens to you for not looking at your phone all day, idiot _ , Kenma thought, mentally slapping himself as he placed his hands on the straps of his backpack and sighed, approaching the others at a slow pace, lengthening his last moments of security as long as possible. 

“Kenma, you were taking too long!” Taketora exclaimed as loud as ever. Kenma couldn't help but twist his mouth. “Didn't you check the group's messages?” 

“No.” Kenma said. They were all staring at him, but there was only one pair of eyes capable of making his heart race. He could almost feel Kuroo's amber gaze boring into his face, looking for answers that Kenma didn’t know if he could give him.

"Oh, did something happen?" This time it was Yaku who spoke, demonstrating his good perception, always noticing changes in his teammates. Kenma felt his heart throbbing against his eardrums. “You have a strange expression.” 

"U-Uh…” 

"Is it because of what happened this morning?”  Kuroo said, and Kenma thought his heart was about to jump out of his mouth when he heard those words . “Y’know, about that pervert who was bugging you.”

“ _ Eh? _ ” Kenma's head went blank, unable to synapse. It took him a few seconds to associate Kuroo's wide-eyed look and his words, nodding his head. “Uh, yeah, a guy was bothering us on the train in the morning.” 

“Ah?!” They all exclaimed in surprise at once, making nervousness tickle Kenma's skin. He nodded again, trusting Kuroo.  _ It's not like I can do anything else either _ , he thought, fighting the urge to bite back at the calluses on his fingers. 

"He was getting too close to Kenma, and he made a fuss in the car when I confronted him before he escaped," Kuroo continued, crossing his arms over his chest and frowning. Everyone else was staring at him, expressions hovering between annoyance and concern. “We left a record with the station guards, although they can't really do much.” 

"Jesus, are you okay?" Yaku asked, looking at Kenma with a furrowed brow. He nodded, looking down. Normally he would be grateful to be pulled out of stressful situations, but he couldn't help thinking this was all his fault. Kuroo was lying for him, helping him even after how rude he had been. “It's disgusting. I'm really sorry you went through that.” 

“I hate perverts!” Tora roared, practically fuming from his ears. Beside him, Fukunaga and Kai nodded, notoriously concerned despite not having said a word. “They do nothing but annoy the girls, and now they dare annoy our setter!” 

"Future starter setter, you mean," Kuroo corrected naturally. Kenma felt a sting of embarrassment stain his cheeks, and he couldn't help but hide behind his hair. That idiot always found moments to flatter him. 

The topic of perverts and their misdeeds dragged on for a while longer, until the conversation turned to school topics and the matter died. No one asked Kenma about his strange expression again, and they didn't even notice the soft blush on his face or the way he fiddled with his fingers.

Nobody except Kuroo. 

“C’mon, let's go to the konbini!” Tora exclaimed with one of his huge smiles as he pointed to some infinite point along the way. 

As everyone agreed, Nekoma's team headed for the nearest konbini, continuing their casual chat. Just like every time he went out with his friends, Kenma ended up walking to the rear of the group, keeping pace with them with his gaze fixed on the ground and his hands shoved into the pockets of his jacket. In another context, perhaps he would have taken out his PSP to play for the duration of the journey, but he was afraid that his hands would fail him and end up dropping his console. 

His heart was still beating at full speed, and the fact that Kuroo was shooting him longer glances than usual didn't help at all. 

_ He's suspicious _ , Kenma thought, biting the inside of his cheek. What did he expect, anyway? He had been acting weird since this morning, and considering how well Kuroo knew him, it was pretty obvious what would happen. If he hadn't said anything to him so far it was out of consideration, but as soon as they found themselves alone he surely would want to discuss the subject. 

Kenma frowned, kicking a small stone that got in his way. Feelings really were a pain in the ass. 

It wasn’t more than ten minutes of walking when they reached a konbini, in which Kai and Yaku entered after everyone indicated what they wanted and handed them the money. Kenma —who really had no appetite, but preferred to pretend— ordered a chocolate popsicle, too preoccupied with other things to even think about food. Now that they weren’t walking, Kuroo's gaze was much more insistent, to the point where he could feel it drilling into his head. 

"Oi, Kenma, do you already have your mark?" Tora's words were enough to distract Kenma, causing him to stop thinking about Kuroo's gaze. He blinked a few times, not answering the question. “Y’know...  _ the mark.” _

"Ah ..." Kenma took a few seconds to understand what the other was referring to, feeling shame creep up his neck. “No."

“There's a girl in my class who got it over the holidays, it's really cool!" Taketora continued, visibly excited. “I can't wait to get mine, for sure my soulmate will be a beautiful girl!” 

"Or a boy," Kuroo added, with a sharp smile. For a moment, Kenma met his gaze, feeling an electric current run through his body, which forced him to lower his eyes again. It was strange not to look at or speak to Kuroo, and for some reason this feeling manifested as a weight on his chest. He wanted to talk to him, look at him,  _ touch him. _

“Can you imagine meeting her at this year's Nationals?” Tora said, completely ignoring Kuroo's comment. His brown eyes sparkled, and emotion seemed to flow from every one of his pores. “Nekoma's star Yamamoto Taketora doing a cross shot that drives the stands crazy, and there, among the crowd, his soulmate appears and shouts his name!” The volume of Tora’s voice increased as his excitement grew, to the point where a couple of people turned to glare at them. "Taketora, Taketora!"

"I'm almost 100% sure you got that out of a movie," Kuroo blurted out, one of his typical mocking smirks spreading across his face. Tora frowned, crossing his arms over his broad chest. “The real world doesn't work like that.” 

“Well, it can happen!” Tora replied. “Right, Fukunaga?” 

"Dreaming costs nothing," Fukunaga answered in a soft voice. Taketora grunted and Kuroo snorted with laughter. 

The discussion was certainly ridiculous, and Kenma wasn't thrilled to be a part of it. If the issue of marksand soulmates already got on his nerves, the mixture with his new feelings and how guilty he felt about them was enough to leave his head in chaos, so he tried with all his might to pass unnoticed. And he really did try, shrinking into his jacket and pulling out his phone to pretend he was searching for something, but luck wasn't on his side. 

“Kenma! What do you think?” 

Taketora's question, as expected as it was, was enough to make the hairs on the poor blond's neck raise. He looked up, meeting three pairs of eyes that were more interested than he would have liked. He swallowed hard, feeling his suddenly dry throat. Why the hell were Yaku and Kai taking so long? 

"Uh…" The storm in his head roared, messing his thoughts, causing them to crash into each other until they were reduced to a misshapen mass from which little to nothing could be rescued. Kenma swallowed again, feeling his ears heating up. “I think it's ... stupid, I guess.”

“Stupid?”

"Mm-hmm," he nodded, looking back down at his phone. His reflection on the black screen stared back at him. “Being destined to someone without knowing how they will be like or if you already know them... It's awful,” he continued in a low voice. “The very idea that love is determined by spiritual ties that you cannot control seems annoying to me.” He raised his golden eyes again, feeling a surge of confidence run through his body from an unknown source, just enough for him to look directly at Kuroo. His heart skipped a beat, but his legs didn't shake. “The world would be much better off without them.”

Silence. Kenma caught a fleeting flash of pain passing through Kuroo's amber eyes,  but it was gone in a blink/after a blink . He was tempted to add something else, perhaps to make his answer sound less harsh, but Yaku and Kai arrived with the ice creams before he could even think of anything. Had he said something wrong? He didn’t know much about Kuroo's opinion on soulmates —it wasn't a relevant issue in their relationship, after all— and considering how sentimental that idiot could be about certain things, it wouldn't be a surprise if he considered soulmates as something important. 

Kenma bit the inside of his cheek, accepting the popsicle that Kai offered him, muttering a soft ‘thank you’. He opened the wrapper without thinking too much  others' reaction to his little speech , rushing to scoop the ice cream into his mouth. Chocolate never tasted so bitter.

The group stood there for a while, talking and eating their ice creams with enthusiasm, while the spring sun fell on their heads. Kuroo's furtive glances stopped, which  made Kenma's feelings mix together — since when had he been interested in being the center of attention? —, but it was easy to ignore, keeping his attention on the conversations around him. He chatted with Tora and Fukunaga about the new classes and teachers they had, about what they hoped to achieve that year, and their expectations for the volleyball team, and Yaku and Kai also joined them. Kuroo, for his part, seemed more focused on eating his strawberry milk popsicle,  though Kenma tried not to overthink it . 

If he continued like this, the anxiety would end up devouring him. 

With the popsicles finished and the sun descending through the sky, the group said goodbye and divided, everyone going back to their respective houses. Kenma and Kuroo headed back to the train station, and got in the first one that passed. They did not exchange a word during the whole trip, so Kenma preferred to take out his PSP and play MonHun to distract himself.

He wasn't sure if Kuroo was upset with him — he had a calm expression, not even the trace of a frown — but it was clear that something was up. To ask or not to ask? That was the real crux of the matter.

"Oi, Kenma." Kuroo's hoarse voice was enough to make him stop pressing the buttons on his console, frozen by the anxiety flooding his chest. He had been delusional to think that the silence would last. “Have you been biting your fingers?I see the wounds from here.”

"U-Uh." He didn't know what to answer, his fingers and the mania he had of biting them were not what he had expected for this conversation, but it partly calmed him. Talking about bitten fingers and eaten skin was a lot easier than talking about feelings and stupid spiritual ties. “... A little, yes.” 

"I thought you had stopped doing it already," Kuroo murmured, to which Kenma shrugged. For a moment, he felt the urge to hide his hands in the pockets of his jacket, even though it no longer made sense.  Kuroo's look on his hands made him aware of Kuroo's closeness again: the heat of his body, the soft perfume his clothes gave off, the rise and fall of his broad chest, the small movements that his muscles made to stay upright... His heart was going to explode. “Your mom is going to be upset when she’ll see your hands.” 

"U-Uhm..." 

There was a moment of silence, long enough for Kenma to think he had extricated himself from the situation, but the smile that spread across Kuroo's face ended up crushing all his hopes. 

"There's a first aid kit in my house, it must have band-aids and disinfectant for sure," Kuroo explained. “You can tell your mom that you fell or something, so she won't scold you.” 

Kenma didn't know what to answer. Refusing the offer was not worth it, he knew very well that the other would find a way to drag him home and help him, even if it meant persisting ad nauseam. Also, Kuroo was right about his mother: she would surely scold him for biting his fingers, a bad habit that he was supposed to have overcomed years ago. The uncomfortable questions would not be long in coming, and he wasn't sure if he could pass an interrogation. His mother could be likeKuroo – or even worse – when it came to overprotecting him, not to mention how perceptive she was. 

He was cornered against a sword and a wall. 

"Okay," Kenma relented, turning his attention back on the game and continuing the quest. 

They spent the rest of the journey in silence , and Kenma's character kept walking in circles, not knowing where to go. He was pushing the buttons out of reflex, moving from side to side on the map, but not taking on any pending missions. His heart felt like it was going to rush out of his chest, and his mind insisted on taking him to strange places. 

What if this was just a ruse to confront him? He would have nowhere to escape once they’d be at Kuroo’s, and he wasn't sure his lying skills could save him this time. Kuroo was perceptive, too much even for his own good, so some clumsy excuse wouldn't be enough to satisfy him, even less so when one of the people he loved most in the world was involved. Because, yeah: being Kuroo Tetsurō's childhood friend had many advantages — more than he could compensate for — but there was also that little detail called over-protection. 

Well, maybe others would see it as a normal concern, but when you added how pushy that idiot could be, things could escalate quickly. 

The train ride took no more than 20 minutes, and the walk to Kuroo's house was even shorter. The sky was tinged with the orange tones of sunset, and an icy breeze blew through the streets. Out of habit, Kuroo put an arm around Kenma's shoulders in an attempt to protect him from the current, and Kenma felt his heart leap out of his mouth.  His warmth , mixed with the affectionate pressure on his shoulders... Oh, he really was lost. 

The lights of the house were off when they arrived, and the deathly silence that flooded it was enough to make them know they were alone before Kuroo could say anything. 

"My father is on a business trip, and my grandparents went shopping," Kuroo clarified, walking towards the kitchen. Kenma, for his part, was still standing in the doorway, the door open behind him, the breeze blowing past him. He heard Kuroo put his bag on one of the countertops before his head peeked over the threshold again. “Come on, close the door and come in. The longer we wait, the more suspicious your mom will be.”

"U-Uhm." 

His instincts screamed at him that he should get out of there, that nothing good would come from being locked in with Kuroo and the storm of feelings that oppressed his chest, but his body did not obey him. He took a step forward, turning to close the door behind him and then kicking off his shoes, heading into the house.

The aroma of freshly prepared rice combined with that particular smell that grandparents gave off when they sat in the sun, filled Kenma's nose. It was the scent he associated with Kuroo's house, the scent of home that had welcomed him for years, something he was used to, but which now felt different. 

His eyes darted from detail to detail in the main room: a woolen blanket that hung over the back of the sofa, the specks of dust that gleamed in the evening rays that crept through the curtains, the little cacti lined up on the furniture with the television, a forgotten slipper, the corner of the carpet folded... So many things he would have ignored in another context, but which awakened butterflies in his stomach now. 

_ This is Kuro _ , Kenma thought unconsciously, as he followed Kuroo upstairs to his room. 

The faces in the photographs on the walls watched him silently, but Kenma didn’t really care little or not at all. He had his eyes fixed on his friend’s broad back , who climbed the stairs without effort, leaving behind the trail of that masculine perfume that he had begun to wear at some point in high school. Kenma felt like he was walking on clouds for a few moments, so high that he forgot all his worries, reaching a state where anxiety could not touch him. 

Well, at least until they got to the room, and he sat on the bed, coming back to reality when Kuroo peeked over the threshold of the bathroom with the first aid kit in his hands. 

"I have to disinfect the wounds first, it might burn a little," Kuroo explained, as he knelt in front of Kenma. He set the plastic box on the floor, opening it and taking out a few pieces of gauze and a bottle of ethyl alcohol. Kenma couldn't help but twist his mouth. “Don't make that face, it will only hurt for a moment.” 

"A very long moment."

"Shorter than when we were children," Kuroo replied, curling the corners of his mouth in a smile. Memories of scraped knees and elbows filled Kenma's mind, causing his heart to skip. So many years he had spent alongside Kuroo, practically (and literally) his entire life. “You were a very violent patient, y’know?” 

"You used too much alcohol and scratched me with the gauze," he growled, frowning. Actually, part of his annoyance was feigned, but he wasn't going to admit it. 

"Well, well, I did become an expert over time." 

"Say that to the scars on my knees." 

"You could say they are trophies from won battles." 

“Does falling because you gave me a pass too short seem like a won battle?” 

Kuroo shook his head, snorting with laughter before getting on with his business. He opened the bottle of alcohol, wetting one of the gauze pads before reaching out, asking for Kenma's hand in silence. Kenma raised his hand and placed it on the other's, feeling the palm hot against his. Small chills ran through his skin, intensifying when Kuroo began to clean the small wounds from his fingers. The heat of the alcohol faded into the background, and Kenma couldn't help but hold his breath and watch the scene,  enhanced . 

Kuroo gently took his hand, getting close enough that Kenma felt his breath against his skin. He cleaned the wounds carefully, without applying too much pressure, gently patting the areas that were most hurt. His bangs, soft-looking despite the quirky hairstyle he was used to wearing, fell to the side, tipping more and more as Kuroo settled in. Long black lashes danced each time he blinked, combing the air, highlighting his eyes that gleamed like polished amber in the last light of the day.

Kenma swallowed hard, his throat suddenly feeling dry. _ At what point had that jerk become so attractive?  _

“Give it to me.” Kuroo murmured, pointing at Kenma's other hand to check it. He handed it to him without question with trembling fingers. “Are you cold? I can close the window.” 

"N-No..." His voice quivered, and he could feel shame creeping up his neck. Kenma shook his head, trying to ignore how great his hand felt against Kuroo's. "... It's just a nervous tic." 

“Oh? I didn't know you had one of those.” 

"They come by from time to time." The lie felt heavy in his mouth, and the way Kuroo lifted his face and looked at him only intensified his discomfort.  _ It's not like I have a choice either _ , he thought, trying to keep his expression neutral. “It's nothing, really.” 

"Mm-hmm." 

Kuroo held his gaze for a moment that felt like forever, before turning his attention back to cleaning the wounds. Once finished with both hands, he proceeded to apply the bandages, making sure that the glued part did not remain on the affected areas. Kenma, for his part, concentrated on breathing, looking up and scanning the details of the ceiling, trying not to think too much about Kuroo’s touch on his skin. That idiot was too perceptive, and Kenma wasn't good at keeping lies under pressure. 

"You were acting weird today, did something happen?" Kenma felt every muscle in his body tense, and his heart began to pound. He wasn't ready, he hadn't even had time to make up any excuses!

"N-No ..."

"C’mon, I've known you for years, Kozume Kenma." Hearing his full name from Kuroo's mouth sent a chill down his spine, which he couldn't help but hate. He hated these new sensations, even more so when they played against him. “I know something is wrong with you.” 

"U-Uhm…” 

Kenma didn't know what to say. A ‘mind your own business’ would be too rude, and unfair considering that Kuroo's concern was justified. Nor did he see any possible escape, after all, there were not many important issues to discuss and surely Kuroo would return to the same thing, perhaps even worrying more. 

Kenma licked his lips, choosing his words carefully before opening his mouth. 

"Well... I've been thinking about the mark, y’know, the soulmate thing." Kenma’s throat felt dry no matter how much he swallowed, and he had to clasp his hands in his lap to stop them from shaking. He was walking on thin ice. “I read a few articles over the holidays and... became overly self-conscious about it.” 

“Why?” 

"The mark usually manifests itself at our age," he clarified. That was not a lie: he had read hundreds of articles about soulmates, the advantages, the disadvantages and anomalies, even though it was not precisely because he was concerned about that in particular. Feelings for Kuroo turned the tables of the game, and there was no turning back. “And, I don't know…”

“Is it scary?” Kuroo questioned, raising his eyebrows. Kenma nodded, grateful that the other finished the sentence for him. “It's normal, anyone would be scared of something as important as discovering who their soulmate is.” 

"It's just that–" He stopped mid-sentence. His lips parted. He was about to say ‘I'm afraid it's not you’, but he managed to stop himself in time.  _ Idiot _ . “W-What will I do if someone I don't know is my soulmate? Or if they’re a bad person, I don't know, a psychopath or something like that…” 

"I don't think someone like you is going to be linked with someone like that," Kuroo said,  with confidence in his voice . There was a moment of silence, where Kenma thought he saw Kuroo's cheeks turn red, but in a matter of a blink it was gone.  _ Was it an illusion caused by the sunset? _ “I don't think you should worry about that.” 

"That doesn't mean the idea of waking up and having a name written on your body is pleasant, even more when that's what guides your destiny." Kenma countered.

"Well, there are _ platonic soulmates. _ " Kenma wrinkled his nose and frowned, a noticeable grimace of displeasure. “Oi, oi, don't be mad, I get your point.” 

" You speak as if you didn't ." 

Silence. Kuroo heaved a loud sigh and, for a moment, Kenma regretted his words. He was supposed to lie — or, well, tell a half-truth — not get into an argument. Kuroo was worried about him, that was evident, what kind of person would argue in such a situation? 

_ Idiot _ , Kenma repeated to himself, biting the inside of his cheek hard until he felt the taste of blood dance against his tongue. He searched in his head for an answer, something that would cut the uncomfortable tension that had formed in the room, but found nothing. And what's more, it was Kuroo who spoke. 

"I'm sorry," Kuroo muttered, resting his cheek on one of Kenma's knees. The blonde froze, looking nervously at the older. The idea of him apologizing for something that wasn't his fault made Kenma uncomfortable to the point an invisible pressure formed in his chest. “Maybe I didn't use the right words.” 

"N-No, it's fine," Kenma replied, in a low murmur. Kuroo's cheek felt hot against the fabric of his pants, and he could feel shame creeping up his neck. He wanted to pull away, avoid physical contact, but his body didn't react. _ It felt good, too good _ . “I understand what you're saying just... I'm worried.” 

“I know.” Kuroo sighed, closing his eyes and rubbing his cheek against the other's knee. Kenma couldn't help but think of a cat. “I'm sorry I was a jerk.” 

"You weren't. You just were being logical." 

"Yeah, but I made you mad, that makes me an idiot," Kuroo replied,  chuckling . “ _ I’m a complete idiot. _ ” 

Kenma didn't know what to do or, well, he had an idea but wasn't really sure if he should do it. Kuroo had leaned against him for comfort in countless times, but he could no longer see him in the same way. His feelings had gone from a simple whirlwind to a hurricane, and he was unable to take his eyes off of the older, with a single idea running on his mind that was so stupid and risky that Kenma would have liked to slap himself. 

_ I want to pet him. I want to pet him. I want to pet him. _

“I have an idea," Kuroo exclaimed unexpectedly, raising his head to look at the other. Kenma couldn't help the wave of disappointment running through his body, but he suppressed his feelings in a corner of his head where they could no longer bother him. “How about you let me know when your mark appears?”

"Uh, what for?" 

"I don't know, an action plan?" Kenma wasn't sure what his expression was showing, but it was enough for Kuroo to continue, “So I can help you decide on what to do, or comfort you as the situation requires.” 

“Comfort me?” 

"I don't know if you have someone in mind," Kuroo clarified, shrugging. For a moment, Kenma had the urge to answer that indeed, he had one person in mind, but stopped himself. Kuroo was capable of questioning him until he’d give a name, or he would try to guess, and neither scenario seemed the least bit pleasant. "Whatever the case, I can help you make a decision. Sometimes it is good to have the opinion of third parties, you know, for objectivity.”

“Uh-huh.” 

"I'm serious," Kuroo said, standing up. Kenma followed him with his gaze. The last light of dusk was fading, and the first stars appeared in the sky, like little diamonds. “You are one of the most important people in my life. So obviously, I am going to help you with this!” 

“Doesn't that make you subjective?” Kenma snapped, receiving a scowl from his friend in response.

"I can be objective if necessary." 

“As you say.” 

“I can be.” 

"Yeah, right." 

“I can.” 

“No, you can’t.” 

“Yes I can!” 

“You can’t.” 

They argued like this for a while, and the atmosphere in the room became lighter and lighter. Kenma was able to forget the chaos in his head and enjoy Kuroo's company, feeling like everything was going back to the way it was before that fateful morning. His heart was pounding, warming his cheeks to a soft pink hue, but he no longer cared. All his attention fell on Kuroo, on his beautiful amber eyes, on the small gestures he made when he spoke, on the smile that pulled his lips when he couldn't win an argument, on the affection in his gaze when he looked at him...

_ I'm deeply lost, right? _

* * *

That conversation — even if he hadn’t been able to fix the main conflict — had been enough to calm Kenma a bit, and give him something to hold onto. Or, well, something to think about as he learned to deal with his feelings. 

The mornings became a struggle; trying to keep up appearances and learning his new boundaries regarding closeness and physical contact to adapt to them and be able to continue with his life. As he did on the MonHun, he set out with simple goals — control his breathing, measure his reactions — that were easy for him to accomplish, gradually escalating in difficulty as he progressed. This, adding to the training and practice for the games – the Nationals were just around the corner – consumed so much of his time that Kenma was able to regain control over himself, returning to acting as before around Kuroo. 

Obviously there were times when he felt that jumping onto the railroad tracks was not such a far-fetched idea, but it was the least of it compared to his overall progress.

The nervousness that he felt at first became a mere echo in the back of his head, and the happiness that he already felt when being with Kuroo became a kind of euphoria, to the point that just seeing Kuroo improved his humor. This was quite useful during the long practices at the gym, when exchanging a couple of knowing glances with his friend was enough to dilute the pain in his muscles. Even setting to Lev changed from torture into something that was simply annoying.

Regarding the routine of checking mirrors, the anxiety that Kenma felt at first diminished, more than anything at the idea that he was no longer alone in that. If the mark appeared, Kuroo would be there to support him and find a solution, whatever name was written on his skin. Sure, the possibility that Kuroo might not end up being his soulmate and that the feelings he had for him would remain even after the appearance of the mark —the soulmate connection could overpower a person's previous feelings, but it wasn't a sure thing— had plagued him from the shadows, but it wasn't something that he overthought either. 

_ Without a name, there was nothing to worry about. _

"Oi, Kenma."

It was the night of the second day of the nationals,  to which Nekoma got to after years of not even making it through the Tokyo preliminaries . For many this was a real surprise, but Kenma did not find it strange. After weeks of arduous training and endless practice, everyone  gave their all  on the court just to get a slim chance to get there, determined to fulfill the dream of taking Nekomata to Nationals for the first time in years. And, as much as the will or the effort did not guarantee victory, none of them wanted to surrender, determined to fight till the end and go as far as possible.

And Kenma, as much as he hated feeling his sweating body and heavy muscles, was no exception. He also wanted to help, show that he had the "guts" to stand in front of the net and play with his friends, help them achieve their goal that felt so far away a few weeks ago.

“Oi, Kenma!” Kuroo repeated, raising the volume of his voice a little, and finally causing Kenma to turn his head in his direction. 

Kenma was sitting on the front steps, his body huddled inside three layers of clothing — his team jacket, a white sweatshirt, and a black T-shirt — and both hands gripping a coffee can. He had woken up at 2 am and, seeing that he could not go back to sleep no matter  how much he turned in the futon , he decided to get up and go out to get some air, hoping that the fatigue would return at some point. After successfully sneaking out of the room using Lev's snoring to hide his footsteps, he had made his way down to the reception desk, where he bought the coffee can to use as an excuse if someone discovered him. 

And his plan would have worked quite well, at least if he hadn’t been discovered by the pain in the ass that was his best friend.

“Shouldn’t you be sleeping?” Kuroo asked, frowning with his arms crossed over his chest. 

Kuroo was wearing pajamas that looked more like one of a grandfather than a high school senior, and some cat slippers, which did nothing but give  him a cartoonish appearance. Anyone else would have given in to his scowl and intimidating posture, but Kenma knew him too well to take it seriously. As much as he tried to fulfill the role of the responsible third year senpai, curiosity spilled from Kuroo’s eyes. 

“In a few hours we have the game against Karasuno, it is important that you are rested.”

"I was thirsty," Kenma replied, lifting the can slightly and shaking it in the air, being careful to cover the label with his hand. He wasn't exactly known for liking coffee, a detail like that would screw up his alibi. 

"Oh c’mon, you don't even like coffee." Kenma's heart skipped a beat, and he could feel his ears warm under the hood of his sweatshirt. His lips parted, ready to reply, but the other stepped forward. “Don't try to lie, I looked at the machine before leaving, and they only had coffee.” 

Kenma wrinkled his nose, turning his head and looking back to the street where the lantern lights created long, claw-like shadows.  _ If I ignore him, maybe he'll get tired and go back to his room _ , he thought,  fidgeting with the can and feeling Kuroo’s gaze on his back. 

With the cold outside, Kuroo would surely be freezing wearing only his pajamas, not to mention that he had a very precise sleep schedule. Staying awake that late would only cause him annoyance, so  Kenma lulled himself into thinking Kuroo would give up if he'd ignore him . And any normal person would have acted that way, but when he was talking about Kuroo Tetsurō things were a bit more complicated. 

This idiot had an iron will when it came to being annoying. 

"Hey, don't ignore me."

Kenma heard Kuroo's footsteps approaching, the soles of his slippers creaking on the red tiles that formed a path to the hotel entrance. He couldn't help but tense when a huge hand settled on his shoulder, practically encompassing him completely. His heart skipped a beat, and he could feel the blood rushing in his ears. As much as he had been practicing mastering his body's reactions, he still couldn't keep his pulse from racing at physical contact. Yes, he knew how to hide it, but that did not mean that he wasn’t a mess inside. 

Losing control of himself was one of the things he hated the most, even above gravity or the exhaustion after workouts. 

"You should be more respectful to your senpais, Kenma-kun," Kuroo said, emphasizing the name. Using the other's shoulder for support, he descended the front steps, sitting next to Kenma. He stepped away, leaving crucial inches of distance between them.

"I don't remember insulting you," Kenma muttered, slapping the other's huge hand off his shoulder. At this, Kuroo chuckled.

“Why are you so mean to me, Kenma-kun?” He asked, his tone childish. Kenma grunted, he could perfectly imagine the smile Kuroo had without looking at him: elongated, smug, the kind that marked that lonely dimple on his left cheek and made him look fucking attractive.  _ Bastard _ . “I came here to see you, worried about you and you just growl at me.”

"I don't remember asking you to do it either."

“Don't you have a more ingenious answer? Normally you would say something like…” Kuroo was silent for a few seconds, and then he put his hand to his chin, in a position that must have been thoughtful.  _ Dramatic bastard _ . “I don't know, something sharper. More...  _ Kyanma _ , y’know.”

“Did you come to check if I was okay or to bother me?” He grunted, which only made Kuroo laugh. His laughter was clear, loud, so horrible it made Kenma want to rip his ears out but deep down he liked… A little, at least. “Tomorrow's game is important, and you are the captain, you must be more rested than anyone.” 

"I could tell you the same, brain and heart of Nekoma." Kenma snorted, looking away feeling his face warming. There was a small part of him that enjoyed that kind of flattery, but he would prefer banging his head against the ground than admitting it. “C’mon, spit it out.” 

“What?” 

"Y’know, the reason you're here, sitting at the hotel entrance in the middle of the night, with a coffee can when you don't even like it unless it has milk." Kenma turned his face, looking at Kuroo with his blank expression. “What? Was I too specific?”

"When you put it that way, it sounds a little... dramatic," Kenma muttered, gazing down at his hands that were still holding the closed can, which was already beginning to be more cold than warm. 

“Are you nervous about tomorrow's game?” Kuroo asked sincerely. At this, Kenma raised his face, watching him, waiting for him to continue. “Karasuno played well against Inarizaki, and they're on a good streak. I don't think it's that easy to crush them.”

"Shōyō has improved a lot," Kenma commented, relaxing his posture at the change of subject. He straightened his back and, turning his eyes to the street, wandered through the different shadow’s shapes. 

"The shrimp will be a problem, but they'll have to get past our blocks if they want to win," Kuroo replied with confidence, to which Kenma nodded. Nekoma might not have been the best team, but they weren't willing to give up when they'd come this far. “Although, well, it's not what’s bothering you, right? Y’know, the challenge and all that.”

"Not really," Kenma muttered, fiddling with his fingers. “Shōyō is... interesting.”

"I know, I've seen how you look at him," Kuroo replied, smiling. “You have the same expression when you buy a new game.”

"I don't," he replied, twisting his mouth into a grimace.

“Sure you do!” He replied, giving Kenma a playful shove with his shoulder. “Your eyes shine, you smile without realizing it, your voice becomes softer, your cheeks blush, and you look…”

Kuroo stopped, as if he had run out of air. He snapped his mouth shut, twisting the corners of his lips slightly downward as his face clouded over. Kenma watched him in silence, a bad feeling growing deep in his stomach. 

"...  _ You look really happy _ ," Kuroo concluded, after a long silence. He lowered his face, fixing his amber eyes on the point where the bottom step met the sidewalk. 

"Well... playing with Shōyō is fun," Kenma explained urgently. He felt the anxiety growing in his chest, crushing his heart and lungs, suffocating him from the inside. Seeing Kuroo in that state, surrounded by a black cloud of sadness was too much, even more so when he didn't even understand the reason behind it. _ Did I say something I shouldn't have? _

"Yeah, I guess," Kuroo replied, his voice deep.

Kenma parted his lips, searching in the chaos of his head for some way to ease the tension , but found nothing. He frowned and pressed his lips into a fine line, feeling his heart crushed by the large, sharp claws of anxiety. 

After spending almost half of their life together, Kenma lacked fingers on his hands to count the times he had seen Kuroo sad, let alone cry. Since he was a child, his friend had always been sensitive, even though it might not seem so at first sight: he cried when he lost games, when a dog died in a movie or when he had entered high school and had left Kenma alone for a year. It was not strange, and he could even say that it was bordering on the ordinary, but this was different. It was not the usual sadness that vanished when going to the river to level up or when playing a game of Virtua Fighter 4, but something stronger, like a snake that curled around them, suffocating them little by little until despair stained everything.

Kenma mentally ran through all the conversations of the past few days, even those he only overheard. He remembered gestures, movements, comments thrown into the air and grimaces that Kuroo made when he thought no one was looking at him, but he found nothing. Maybe he was more nervous, yes, but who wouldn't be when he was participating to the nationals? After being narrowly selected — third place was an opportunity, but it was still third place — almost everyone in Nekoma was nervous, if not bordering on anxiety. And, considering that Kuroo was the captain, it would be natural to think that he would be under a lot of pressure, but Kenma was certain there was something else.

It was, perhaps, the first time that he had seen his friend so overwhelmed, and he wasn’t even able to read him. 

"Kuro—”

"Well, it's already getting pretty late!” Kuroo exclaimed, his voice higher than normal. He raised his arms, stretching exaggeratedly, yawning with his mouth open and shuddering. His movements were strange, tensed, and too mechanical to pass as a natural action. “I don't want to give Yakkun any more reasons to bother me.” 

Kuroo, leaned on the concrete steps with both hands, and pushed himself to his feet, making one of the typical ridiculous sounds — something akin to a cross between ‘nya’ and ‘kya’ — that he was used to making. He shook the imaginary dirt from his pajama, while Kenma watched him in silence. The words were halfway there, stuck in his throat and building into a thick knot that refused to leave, no matter how hard he swallowed. The snake curled around his chest, crushing him, breaking his ribs and pulverizing his heart and lungs. He was gasping for air, and the sensation was as if hundreds of thorns were digging into his chest at once.

_ It hurt, it hurt too much, why did the butterflies in his stomach turn into daggers?  _

“Do you need help with that?” Kuroo said, pointing to the coffee can Kenma was still holding in both hands. Kenma parted his lips, using all his strength to get the words out of his throat. 

“Kuro—”

"C’mon, you don't have to ask," Kuroo interrupted, leaning down and snatching the can away from him. He gripped it, opening with a deft flick of his fingers before handing it back with a smirk. Kenma was beginning to feel the irritation creeping up his throat, mixing with the anxiety until it formed a disgusting mass that stuck in the middle of his throat and left a bad taste in his mouth. “Sometimes I wonder what you would do without m—”

“Kuro, what the fuck is wrong with you?” 

Those words came out from Kenma's lips fast, sharp, and he himself didn't realize what he had said until it was too late. Kuroo lost his long smile, his expression turned blank, his eyes fixed on Kenma but not really seeing him. For a few seconds, his gaze darkened, and a storm reflected in his amber eyes. Anxiety, despair, hundreds of mixed emotions that disappeared in a matter of a breath, leaving nothing but a trace of discomfort in the air. 

Kuroo blinked a few times, as if trying to assimilate the information. He shook his head with a strained laugh, then smiled in a way that only added to Kenma's bad feeling. 

"Hah, what do you mean?" Kuroo asked, with ill-feigned disinterest. He put a hand to the back of his neck, scratching compulsively the way he always did whenever he was nervous. His eyes darted from side to side, avoiding looking straight at Kenma. “I'm just sleepy, is that a crime?” 

Kenma didn't reply, staring at Kuroo without giving up even an iota. He seemed to get a little more upset, shifting the weight of his body from one foot to the other, opening and closing his lips without saying anything, as if he couldn't find the right words. If it was obvious that something was happening before, it was now  so obvious that anyone could have sense it . The bad feeling kept growing, like shadows that lurked from the corners and hid behind your back, ready to jump.

"... I'm tired, that's all,"  Kuroo explained, measuring his words , something strange coming from the king of provocation and being a pain in the ass. He tried to curve his lips into a relaxed smile, but it only ended in a lopsided grin. “We can't all get up at 3 in the morning and act like it’s nothing, y’know?”

"Kuro ..." Kenma felt his own voice distant, as if he was several meters underwater. He swallowed hard, holding his friend's gaze as he forced the words that were embedded in his chest out. “Are you really fine?”

Another silence, another blank look, and the same neutral expression. The storm loomed in Kuroo's eyes again, this time much clearer, causing the serpent to squirm in Kenma's chest.

"... Yes, I am," Kuroo replied, with an assurance that did not reach his eyes. “I'm just tired, nothing more. Sorry to disturb you.”

Before Kenma could even assimilate what was happening, Kuroo had already turned around, taking long strides towards the entrance of the hotel, sneaking through the glass door and disappearing after turning to the stairs. Kenma watched in silence, feeling the air around him grow thicker and thicker. He wanted to stand up, follow that idiot and grab him by the arm, demand a reason for that fucking show, but his body wasn't responding. His limbs were heavy, cold, while each of his breaths scratched his throat. The edges of his eyes burned, and the more he looked at the entrance where Kuroo had disappeared, the more his vision blurred. 

The smell of canned coffee filled the air, and the black cloud over his head did nothing but grow.

* * *

Kenma spent the rest of the night sitting on the hotel’s steps, at least until the cold on his legs became unbearable, and he had to take cover. As he felt unable to go back to sleep — anxiety was eating him inside — he stayed in the hall, sitting on one of the many sofas and holding the damn coffee can in his hands. 

He repeated the scene in his head with Kuroo again and again, going over every word, every little gesture and look they had shared, but he couldn't find anything that could explain Kuroo’s sadness. His mood had changed at the mention of Hinata. Kuroo was always happy to hear that Kenma made new friends, and they had already talked about Hinata before, what was different this time? 

No matter how much he thought about it, he couldn't find anything special, which only made him even more frustrated than before. The pressure he had felt in his chest did not want to leave, and as much as he tried to calm himself with breathing exercises or turning his attention to the things around him, his head insisted on returning to the memories of Kuroo's face. His shadowed gaze, his overwhelmed expression, the way he compulsively bit his lips and the way his eyes darted from side to side, not daring to look at him.

Every little detail dove into Kenma's heart, a stake plunging into his flesh, splintering and bleeding gushingly.

_ I can't even make my friend feel better, _ Kenma thought, his eyelids growing heavier with each blink. Although the anxiety had not completely disappeared, fatigue was beginning to take over, making even that hard cushioned chair feel as soft as a cloud. "You really are useless."

Kenma closed his eyes, giving in to his instincts, but not an hour had passed before a loud conversation woke him up. His eyes snapped open, startled, turning his head to search for the source of the noise: Fukunaga, Tora and Lev were coming down the stairs, the latter two being engaged in a heated discussion about what they were going to have for breakfast.

“I already told you, you can't eat onarisan!” Taketora exclaimed. His voice bounced off the hotel walls, piercing Kenma's ears. “You're going to get sick to your stomach, and you won't be able to play well!”

“But there are hours until the game against Karasuno!” Lev replied even louder than Tora. “I’ll just go to the bathroom sooner!”

“Last time you spent an hour in the bathroom!” 

“Of course not, Yaku-san exaggerated!”

Kenma gritted his teeth, sinking back onto the couch. He was not in the mood to listen to the arguments of those two, even less to deal with the questions they would surely ask him if they saw him sitting there. Considering how insistent they could be, they wouldn't leave him alone until they got information out of him. That was in the best of cases, unless Lev happened to go to Yaku and say something like "Kenma-san does not look well today, it seems that he is sick", which would end up with the whole team paying more attention to him than necessary.

In another context, he wouldn't have cared, but after what happened last night, the least he wanted was to be a nuisance to Kuroo. 

“Kenma-san, you’re awake!” 

These simple words from Lev's mouth, followed by his awkward footsteps were enough to make Kenma groan, sinking deeper into the sofa cushions as if that would save him. Soon enough the Russian’s long body appeared in front of him, followed close by Taketora and Fukunaga. With three pairs of eyes on him, anxiety soon filled his chest, making his heart race against his ribs. 

“How long have you been here, Kenma-san? You look very tired.”

"Don't tell me you stayed up late playing, you know today is the game against Karasuno," Taketora added, with authority, making Kenma snort.

"I woke up early," Kenma replied. It was not a lie, after all he had been up since two-something in the morning, so that could be considered getting up early... Or, well, at least he saw it that way.

"Well, your dark circles say otherwise."

"Piled up tiredness," he replied, shrugging. Taketora was staring at him with narrowed eyes, an expression that was little to not threatening at all, but still enough to shake him up. “Normal people get tired after playing sports, y’know?”

"If you have a fever you'd better talk to Nekomata-sensei." This time Kenma grunted audibly. Kuroo and his mania of talking about him to every human being he came across was starting to be inconvenient. “It would be a mess if something happened to you today.”

"I'm fine, Tora," Kenma muttered, stretching up and resting his head on the edge of the backrest. His eyes were lost for a few seconds on the ceiling before he closed them with the small hope that the others would get bored and continue their way. 

“Is that a coffee can?” Lev's voice made Kenma growl through his teeth. Maybe it wouldn't be that easy to get rid of that pair. “Kenma-san, but you don't like coffee!”

"Sometimes I like it for breakfast."

"Today's game will be difficult, you must have a better breakfast," Tora seconded, drawing another groan from Kenma, this time perfectly audible. “You will need strength to make good sets.”

“We can share some onarisan if you want, Kenma-san!”

"Lev, I already told you that you can't eat that for breakfast!"

Thus, the discussion about what was a good breakfast returned, and Kenma could feel the calm run through his body as he stopped being the center of attention. He had managed to escape from them, at least for the moment; it only was left thinking of a coherent excuse, or fleeing away from them until they forgot. In the case of Taketora and Lev, it would not be strange that they’d not even remember that little discussion after a while, but there was still someone from whom it was not so easy to escape: Fukunaga.

With his huge eyes, Fukunaga stared at him silently, completely ignoring the other two's argument, which made Kenma shrink into his jacket. His friend had those kinds of looks that seemed to go through walls, looking into your soul as if it was an open book. Usually Kenma didn't care, and even found it amusing to see other people get nervous  under such gaze , but right now Kenma just wanted him to look away.

Not sleeping wasn’t a crime either, Kenma thought, biting the inside of his cheek. Sure, he hadn't done anything wrong, but the weight of Fukunaga's gaze made him feel uncomfortable.

Despite the exhaustion, he pushed himself to think, to turn the gears in his head searching for some ideas that would break the uncomfortable atmosphere, but everything sounded too stupid, too obvious. Frustration squeezed his chest,  until the coffee up between his fingers lighted up an idea in him .

“You want some?” Kenma muttered, offering the coffee can to Fukunaga. He blinked, gazing at it for a moment before returning to Kenma, his small eyebrows raising. “I'm not really thirsty.”

"Okay," Fukunaga replied, reaching to take the drink. Kenma handed it over, watching carefully as his friend immediately raised it to his lips to take a sip.

"It’s a bit cold, I hope you don't mind."

"It’s fine," Fukunaga replied, holding the can against his lips. He bent it over, taking a long drink before continuing. “I like  _ coldffee _ .”

Kenma snorted, curving his lips into an almost imperceptible smile. 

"You are pretty funny, Fukunaga." 

Fukunaga smiled back at him, before following Lev and Tora who were heading toward the hotel exit — still arguing . Kenma watched his teammates go, keeping his gaze on the glass double door until their voices were only soft murmurs, just then, he was able to let go of the tension. Like a wave, relief washed over his body, turning his limbs into jelly for a moment, at least until his mind was drawn back into the hole. 

Without the can, Kenma didn't know what to do with his hands, and the feeling of emptiness made him think once more about what had happened in the early morning. The snake curled back around his chest, crushing his lungs and making his palms sweat like hell. He tried to think about other things: Lev and Tora's stupid argument, Fukunaga's joke, what he would have liked for breakfast if he didn't feel like he had a hole in his stomach. He glanced around the reception room, looking for something to focus his attention and so put out the fire, but found nothing. Kuroo's expression, the shadow in his gaze, the black cloud above his head…

The stake dove deeper in his heart, bringing to the surface the feelings he would rather avoid thinking about.

_ You're pathetic _ , Kenma thought, feeling the voice inside his head as if it were someone else's. It could have been Tora's, Yaku's... or even Kuroo's. They were all and none at once, chuckling at him.  _ You aren’t able to help Kuroo, or even be calm for such an important day. You are pathetic, Kozume Kenma. _

The pressure in his chest increased, to the point he felt like he was being crushed from within. He forced himself to breathe, ignoring the pangs of pain, the howls of his lungs.

_ Shut up, shut up, shut up _ .

Gritting his teeth until he felt his jaw creak, he stood up, forcing himself to walk up the stairs. They were hours away from playing the match against Karasuno,  The Battle At The Garbage Dump they had waited for so long, it wasn’t the time to have a crisis. He couldn't, not there, not on such an important day, not when Kuroo had enough trouble dealing with his shit already.

He might have been useless,  but he refused to be a dead weight to his friends.

Kenma walked up to the room they had rented for the team, trying to ignore the erratic beating of his heart and the feeling of his knees buckling with every step he took. He squashed the storm of memories and unpleasant emotions to the back of his head, concentrating on the air that flowed in and out of his lungs. The ten steps that separated him from the door were agony, and once he got there he had to take a little break to regain his composure. With one hand on the knob, he took in a deep breath, concentrating on keeping a straight face, before turning it and pushing the door open.

“Hey, Kenma!”

Yaku's voice was the first thing that greeted him, as well as a kind smile from Kai. The room — being one of the most spacious in the hotel — looked quite cramped with Nekoma's futons and luggage. Considering the type of guests the place wasn't exactly neat, but Kenma couldn't really say much. He never tidied up his own room unless it was strictly necessary, like when he lost a volume of a manga he wanted to read or his console charger, or those times when Kuroo would show up and scold him along with his mother until he cleaned everything up.

Kenma tightened his lips into what should have been a smile, but ended up being a strange grimace. The fact that everything reminded him of Kuroo didn't make it easier to deal with the chaos in his head.

“Have you already had breakfast?” Yaku asked. Both he and Kai were sitting on their respective futons, arranging their luggage in their bags. “You have some deep dark circles, you haven't stayed up playing, have you?” 

"No, I just..." Kenma licked his lips. The stares of his friends felt heavy. “... I got up early.” 

“Getting up  _ early _ or getting up at two in the morning to be able to play?” Yaku replied, raising an eyebrow. At this, Kenma couldn't help wrinkling his nose.

"Get up  _ early, _ " Kenma murmured. Both Kai and Yaku stared at him in silence, which was enough to make his palms start to sweat. “Y-Y’know, with the game against Karasuno it's hard to sleep.” 

"Oh, are you excited?" Kai said, smiling. Kenma nodded, looking down. 

“ _ Our  _ Kenma is  _ excited _ for a match?” Yaku added, smiling even wider than his teammate. At this, Kenma couldn't help but feel shame creeping up his neck. “Kuroo  will fall on his ass knowing he missed this , ha!” 

"Ah." Something inside Kenma's head clicked, causing the snake to twist around his chest once more. “Where is Kuro?” 

“Kuroo?” Yaku replied, surprised at the question. “He went to the bathroom, I think. That bastard said to wait for him to go to breakfast, and he’s taking forever.”

“Is he okay?” 

Kai and Yaku looked at him silently, as if he had suddenly grown a third arm. It took Kenma a few seconds to realize how suspicious he had just sounded, feeling nervousness  creep up and crush his throat . Would it be correct to ask Yaku and Kai about what happened? After all, they were the closest people he knew to Kuroo... other than him, of course. It was to be expected that they knew, or at least that they had seen something that he hadn’t. The very idea of talking too much and giving Kuroo more trouble made his stomach turn. 

Kenma swallowed, fighting the urge to wipe the sweat from his hands against his pajama bottoms as he searched in his head for the right words, something to break the tension and get him out of the mess. 

_ It's a good opportunity to ask, isn't it? _ , Kenma thought, his lips parting slightly. A chill ran down his spine, but before he managed to make any miserable sound — and surely make a fool of himself — Kai spoke.

"He's nervous about the game, just like everyone," He explained. Yaku turned to look at him, a question written in his eyes, but Kai didn't answer him. For his part, Kenma could only nod. “Why do you ask? Did something happen between you two?” 

“Eh?” The question surprised Kenma. He really didn't expect Kai to be so blunt. “N-No, just... he was acting weird, that's all.” 

The storm rumbled, and Kenma's head was filled with the memories of the night before; Kuroo's face, his dull gaze, that black cloud that seemed to float over his head, so many things that buzzed from side to side and fueled his anxiety. His temples were beginning to ache, not to mention his heart. 

" Well, we're talking about Kuroo Bastard Tetsurō ," Yaku said, shrugging and taking some weight off Kenma’s shoulders. Kai nodded, supporting his teammate’s words.

"Maybe it's just for the game, being the captain puts a lot of pressure on him," Kai continued.

_ But that’s not it _ , Kenma thought, biting the inside of his cheek as he nodded and forced a smile on his face. He knew that wasn’t the reason, he knew Kuroo well enough to know that there was something else behind that shadowed expression, but he didn't have the guts to say it. His friends were just trying to help him, and he didn't want to give them more to worry about. 

* * *

After their little conversation, Yaku and Kai continued sorting their things, and Kenma decided to do the same. He really would have preferred crawling into his futon - which was still stretched out on the tatami floor - and sleep all day, but anxiety kept him on his toes, making his heart pound and his hands sweat, leaving them so sticky that he had to wipe them against his pants. The weird feeling he had about Kuroo just raised suspicions and did not leave him alone. He couldn't help but keep his attention on what Yaku and Kai were talking about, feeling his hair stand on end every time they mentioned Kuroo's name. 

And, if that wasn't torture enough, the storm had turned into a hurricane, each slam against the walls of his head increasing his migraine. 

Hundreds of possibilities flashed before his eyes as he picked up his futon, each one more terrible than the last. What if Yaku and Kai knew, but didn't want to tell him? His friends weren't that kind of person, they knew well how anxious those kinds of situations made him, they weren't cruel enough to do that to him. Besides, his confusion had looked real enough, it wasn't worth thinking badly of them when they had never given him reasons for it. 

_ But if no one knows what's going on with Kuroo, doesn't that mean it's a really serious problem? _ , Kenma thought, feeling the hairs on the back of his neck rise. He dug his fingers into the half-folded futon, staring at the padded fabric surrounded and engulfed them.

Kuroo, despite being much more sentimental than him, could become quite reserved about certain subjects, such as his family. After years of being with him, Kenma only knew the big picture: separated parents, a mother who lived far away, and a sister he never saw, except for Christmas if he was lucky. Kuroo did not like to talk about it, and he used to sulk when asked, but he had never put an expression like the one he had this morning.

_ What could be so serious to distress him like this? _

“Wow, look who deigned to appear!”

Yaku's sudden words were enough to make Kenma wince, turning his head so fast that he got dizzy, watching the room curve around him for a few seconds before returning to normal. At the entrance of the room, with his hand still on the doorknob, was Kuroo, dressed in Nekoma's sports uniform with his hair flattened from a recent shower. From the dark circles under his eyes, it was not difficult to deduce that he had not slept, and his gaze reflected this exhaustion to some extent, but otherwise everything seemed fine. His expression was relaxed, and the anguish of the early morning seemed to have vanished without a trace.

Despite this, Kenma could still feel the black cloud above his head, and the feeling that something was not quite right only increased.

"C’mon Yakkun, it didn't take me that long," Kuroo replied, chuckling. A long smile spread across his face as he tilted his head slightly back, looking down at Yaku as he always did to annoy him. “It’s not like I was Lev.”

"If you were Lev, I wouldn't wait for you," Yaku countered, smiling in the same way. For his part, Kai had the expression he was used to making whenever Yaku and Kuroo started teasing each other. “Is your ass so heavy? It took you more than 20 minutes to shower and change.”

"Oh, do you care how long it takes me to shower?" Kuroo replied, smiling even more. “Kya, perverted Yakkun.”

"I'd rather see a documentary on how grass grows, thank you," Yaku replied, to which Kuroo put a hand to his chest, pretending to be hurt. “Stop making a fool of yourself and behave in front of your kōhai, you idiot.”

_ “Kōhai? _ ”

There was a moment of silence, where Kenma could only hold his breath. Kuroo, who — apparently — hadn't noticed his presence, looked up, laying his amber eyes on him, and Kenma felt his blood freeze. He wanted to move, escape, look away and pretend that he had not been thinking about what had happened for hours to the point of asking third parties if they knew something, but his body was petrified, so he only held his gaze. 

They gazed at each other without saying anything, and the air around them seemed to grow thicker and thicker. Kenma thought he saw a shadow of anguish cross the older man's face for a moment, highlighting his dark circles to the point where fatigue seemed to spill from his expression, but it disappeared in a blink of an eye. 

A long smirk spread across Kuroo's face, a crude imitation of his usual proud smile that only added to Kenma's discomfort.

"Ah, Kenma, haven't you changed yet?" Kuroo said, with a joviality that did not reach his eyes. In another context, Kenma would have given him a  snarky response to the obviousness of his words, but his mind was blank. “I thought you were with Tora and Fukunaga.”

"No," Kenma replied. His tongue felt heavy and his voice alien, causing a strange feeling to fill his chest every time he spoke. The bad feeling was growing, and the hurricane was beginning to turn his head into a mess. “They... went to the konbini, and I'm still in pajamas…” 

“Haven't you had breakfast?” Yaku asked, breaking the tension of the moment. Kenma nodded and the libero frowned, but Kenma couldn't care less. All his attention was on Kuroo, noticing how the corners of his lips curved slightly downward and his eyes were once again pierced by the shadow of anguish. “You need energy for today's game, you could hurt yourself if you don't eat anything!” 

"Yakkun is right," Kuroo supported with a serious tone, stretching and taking a somewhat more authoritative position. The shadow of anguish faded, but Kenma's bad feeling didn't go away. “ You already complain about gravity, not eating would only be one more nuisance .”

"I said I hadn't had breakfast, not that I'm not going to," Kenma replied quietly. Normally he would have responded with something sharper to that obvious provocation, but his head was not in the best condition to think of something more ingenious.

"We can wait for you," Kai said, smiling in an attempt to defuse the situation, but it wasn't very successful. “Let's all have breakfast together at konbini.” 

"So we can also make sure you eat right," Yaku added, crossing his arms over his chest and huffing. “Youth today doesn’t appreciate good food enough.”

"Said the one who prefers meat over fish," Kuroo replied, grinning wickedly. At this, Yaku turned to answer him.

"Shut up, you astaxanthin."

“It's docosahexaenoic acid to you!”

Kuroo and Yaku started arguing as usual, while Kai watched them silently, smiling with some embarrassment. For his part, Kenma grabbed his things and hurried out of the room, passing by his companions and fleeing into the hall. If someone said something to him when he left, he did not pay attention. He only heard his own breathing, the air moving in and out of his lungs, burning his throat and forming a cloud of mist in front of him. His head ached more and more, and he could barely take one step after another without staggering. The hurricane roared and the stake sank deeper and deeper in his heart, while the same question repeated itself inside his head. 

What could be so serious for Kuroo to be like this?

* * *

After taking a quick shower - and incidentally calming his nerves with breathing exercises and a cold water face wash - Kenma returned to the hotel room and went with the others to eat in the small dining room that the Catnip Hotel had on the ground floor. They were served a full traditional breakfast, much larger than Kenma would have liked, but he did not have the energy to complain. The lack of sleep was beginning to affect him, and the fact that he constantly felt Kuroo's gaze on him didn't make things easier for him. 

Because, yeah, apparently Kuroo had decided to apply the old technique of 'I stare at you, but I'll turn away when you look back at me'.

In another context, Kenma might not have cared about this. His friend used to do this to purposely make him uncomfortable and provoke him, which ended in jokes about how Kuroo made him nervous by just looking at him while Kenma grumbled, but that felt different. Kuroo acted evasively, disengaging when he gave him a longer look than usual, as if  the problem was not from him , and this ended up awakening the bad mood within Kenma. The frustration of the situation in general added to those small provocations was enough to transform the worry into irritation, gradually making the option of sending Kuroo to hell become more tempting, but he held back. 

_ You are not able to help Kuroo and now you get mad at him. _

The negative thoughts were also increasing, to the point where the chaos inside his head didn't let him do anything in peace.

_ You are pathetic, Kozume Kenma, really pathetic. _

“What are you doing?” Kuroo asked suddenly. 

Kenma flinched, looking up, slapped by reality. The hours had passed, and now Nekoma's team was on the bus on their way to Tokyo Metropolitan Gymnasium, where the Spring Interhigh quarterfinals would be held. And, as always, he and Kuroo sat together in the front, he in the seat next to the window and Kuroo in the one facing the aisle.

Actually, Kenma would have loved to sit with someone else and keep his grumpiness from growing, but something like that would raise too many suspicions, so he had to settle for playing on his console and ignore as much as possible the insistent looks from the pain in the ass seating at his side.

“Playing.”

“And what do you play?” Kuroo replied, causing Kenma to wince. 

“Something”.

“Something new?” he insisted, poking his head over Kenma's shoulder. He couldn't do anything but shrink, sticking his body as close as possible to the window to avoid being too close. “Hey, let me see.”

“No.”

"C’mon, don't be  annoying ," Kuroo laughed, leaning his body and closing the distance between them more and more. 

Despite the fact that the seats were separated by an armrest, it was not an impediment for the older man to stretch out one of his long arms and try to remove the console from Kenma's hands, laughing every time he dodged.

And, what once would have been a stupid and childish romp, was the fuel for anger to rise up Kenma's throat, consuming what little patience he still had. Kuroo had been avoiding him all day, why right now, when he had a moment of peace inside all the shit, did he think it was a cool idea to be a pain in the ass?

Both were struggling for a while, and Kuroo did nothing but laugh at the shoves that Kenma gave him, until Kenma got tired and kicked him in the leg making him groan.

“Oi, oi, there is no reason to be violent!” Kuroo exclaimed, laughing despite bending over from the pain in his calf. A smile spread across his face, which only further irritated Kenma.  _ Such a dick _ . “It seems like you're really mad at me or something, ah.”

“So what if I am?!” 

Those words escaped Kenma's mouth in a kind of angry whisper, and he didn't realize what he had said until it was too late.

Kuroo — still bent in that stupid position while rubbing the spot where he had hit him — was staring at him in amazement, his amber eyes wide and jaw drooping. It was obvious that such an answer was not expected, and it was most likely that if Kenma had shouted, the rest of the team would be looking at him in the same way.

_ Idiot. _

“Are you... mad at me?” Kuroo asked, frowning until his small eyebrows seemed to merge. His stupid expression in tandem with his words only stoked the fire inside Kenma. “Oi, Kenma, don't ignore me, are you mad at me?”

"I don't know," Kenma muttered, his voice sharp like a dagger. Anger was beginning to mix with shame, increasing irritation to the point where he would have preferred opening the window and jumping on the road than spend another minute there. He didn't feel like explaining,  _ why couldn't Kuroo understand something so simple? _

"Don't tell me you don't know when you’re making that face," Kuroo replied, straightening up and reaching out to touch Kenma's head. He slapped Kuroo away so abruptly that, for a few seconds, he didn't recognize himself. “Come on, Kenma. Why are you mad? If it's about the console, I'm sorry, I don't-”

“Why the fuck would I be bothered about the console?” He replied dryly, turning his face to look at Kuroo. For his part, Kuroo seemed to lose that overflowing confidence he had when approaching others for a moment, shrinking in his seat. “You've been acting weird since this morning, and you think the fucking console bothers me?”

"I don't—"

"Sure, the thing about staring at me and then pretending nothing happened is _ so _ normal," Kenma spat ironically, feeling the bitter venom of his own words. A small part of him felt like he was  exaggerating , that Kuroo really didn't deserve to be treated that way, but the pent-up frustration was playing havoc with his judgment. He didn't want to hurt him, but he wasn't going to tolerate him doing whatever he wanted without even deigning to give a paltry explanation. “I've been worrying about you since that early morning, and you just…”

Kenma snapped his mouth shut, shaking his head and shuddering at the wave of anger that swept through him, and lowered his gaze to the toes of his slippers. He hated being upset, hated the anger filling his head and his voice rising to scream. It was as exhausting as it was useless, why the hell did something like that had to affect him so much?

There was a long silence between them, which was only filled by the chatter of the other members of Nekoma who, around him, went on with their lives, ignoring the little discussion. Well, Kenma didn't really know whether to call that an argument, but he couldn't think of a better name for what had just happened. Was it avent, an outburst? He didn't feel any better after saying all that to Kuroo, and he could even tell that he was starting to regret it and feeling much worse than before.

_ Idiot, idiot. _

“I'm sorry.”

Kuroo's voice interrupted his thoughts, causing Kenma to raise his face again. Kuroo was looking at him with her lips pursed in a rueful smile, which made his heart twist inside his chest. Regret increased, and the desire to go back in time and withdraw his words crushed his chest.

_ You’re not able to help. You’re not able to be calm for such an important day as today, and you cannot even keep your mouth shut so as not to hurt him more. You are pathetic, Kozume Kenma _ . 

"I... I didn't know you felt this way, I'm sorry." Kenma parted her lips to answer, but the lump in his throat didn't let out a miserable sound. He was supposed to support Kuroo, why the hell couldn't he accomplish such a simple task. “I didn't think it was that important.”

“Important? You acted as if someone had died, Kuro,” Kenma replied, feeling a wave of cold run through him as he realized what he had said. That was a possibility he hadn't thought of before.

_ Idiot, idiot, idiot. _

“Did I look that bad?” Kuroo murmured, to which Kenma replied with a nod. The older man snorted with laughter, raising a hand to his face and rubbing it, before moving it to the back of his neck and scratching himself in a gesture that swung between shame and nervousness. “Sorry, I really didn't think it would worry you that much.”

"You're my best friend, obviously I'm going to worry."

"Yeah, I know, but still," he insisted, putting his other hand on the back of his neck. He lifted them to his head, scrubbing his hair hard until it was even messier than before. Kenma watched him without saying anything, feeling strangely nervous at the simple gesture. “Just... Ah, shit, I'm a jerk.”

Kenma would have loved to agree with him, but he had a feeling it was not the best time for that.

"So... what happened?" Kenma asked quietly. Kuroo raised his head with his hands still on it, and looked at him with wide eyes, without saying a word. Kenma couldn't help but think of  _ psyduck. _ “You know, last night... "

“Oh,  _ that… _ ” 

"You don't have to give details if you don't want to," he hastened to add when he saw a flash of panic appear in Kuroo's amber eyes. Truth be told, he would have loved for him to tell everything in great detail, no matter how stupid or irrelevant, but he knew well that putting Kuroo under pressure was never a good idea if you wanted to get information out of him. “I just... I just want to know if you're okay.”

Silence. Laughter and chatter from the rest of Nekoma filled the bus, engulfing them and causing their murmurs to sink into the din. Despite this, Kuroo looked remarkably nervous, glancing from side to side in case someone was listening to them, which sparked alarms within Kenma. The oldest was rarely paranoid — his confidence overflowed to annoying points — so he couldn't help thinking of hundreds of possible scenarios, each one worse than the last.

Kenma thought his heart would explode when Kuroo opened his mouth.

"It's nothing that important, really," Kuroo explained, sitting up straight and clasping his hands on his lap. He played with his fingers nervously. For his part, Kenma watched him in complete silence. “Do you know those moments where you start to think so much about something that you end up worse than you were at first? Well, it was basically that.”

“I get it.” 

Kenma was familiar with overthinking things so much to the point he had petty crisis, although that didn't mean that it was strange to hear it from someone else's mouth. 

"It's silly, believe me, you'd laugh at me if you knew." 

"I wouldn't," Kenma replied sincerely. They both held their gazes in silence, long enough for the pesky butterflies to decide to make an appearance in Kenma's stomach. If there was a more inopportune time for his romantic feelings to strike, this was it. “W-I mean, if it's something that makes you feel bad, I'm not going to laugh.”

“Yeah right.” 

"Kuro..." 

Kenma felt the urge to reach out and take his friend's hand, show him in some way that he was on his side and that he wasn't going to make fun of his pain, but his own nervousness stopped him. Would it be correct to take the initiative, or was it excessive? He had never faced such a situation before, and he wasn't sure if Kuroo would want physical contact. 

Kenma's mind turned into a chaos of possibilities, and another hurricane formed inside his head. He looked down, clutching his own thighs and digging his nails into the fabric. 

_ Useless. _

"I..." Kenma began, closing his mouth immediately. 

Ideas eluded him, leaving him blank. He didn't know what to say, and he wasn't even sure there were any right words to erase the anguish from Kuroo's gaze, but he still wanted to try. 

"I understand how you feel, I've been through moments like this many times. I know what it's like," Kenma muttered, feeling as if his voice was someone else's. He could feel Kuroo's gaze on him, but he didn't have the guts to lift his face and face him. If he lost control, he was screwed. “And ... you are my friend, I will never laugh at something that makes you feel bad, no matter what.”

Kenma paused for a breath, unconsciously expecting Kuroo to interrupt him and say something about the — big, huge — stupidity he was saying, but there was no response. He kept listening to the silence. 

"If you don't want to tell me, that's fine, I'm not going to bother you," he continued. Little by little, courage began to fill his chest, giving him more confidence in his words ... or at least that's how it felt. Maybe he was talking nonsense, but at least Kuroo seemed to be listening. “Whatever it is, I'm going to support you, Kuro.” 

Silence again. Kenma took a deep breath, going over and over his words in his head. Had something been missing? The feeling that others would make fun of you for feeling bad was one of the most horrible things in the world, but it wasn't like he could say much more. He had shown his support, what else could he do? Hug him and comfort him, telling him that everything would be fine? He wasn't sure if Kuroo wanted something like that, and he wasn't even sure if he would be capable of giving something like that himself. He was a coward, he lacked the guts even to do something as simple as holding his hand, he didn't want to think what a hug would cost him. 

_ You are pathetic, Kozume Kenma, really _ —

Unexpectedly, his thoughts were interrupted by the sensation of a pair of arms surrounding him, erasing the hurricane of anguish at a stroke and leaving him in the void, floating. Kenma remained static, feeling a chill run down his spine as Kuroo settled himself to hide his face in the curve of his neck, tickling him with his breath.

Kenma took a few moments to regain control of his body, managing to move his arms and return Kuroo's hug. The position was awkward and they were both visibly nervous, but neither backed down. Kenma began to move a hand on Kuroo's back, going up and down and patting him gently, feeling how little by little the huge arms that surrounded him were relaxing. He adjusted himself as best he could, raising his other hand up to Kuroo's hair, tangling her fingers between the dark strands and gently pulling them, lovingly.

They held each other in silence for a few long minutes, going unnoticed in the hubbub of the rest of the team. Kenma was slow to find his voice, feeling a wave of heat creep up his neck and focus on the back of his neck.

"I'm here, Kuro. I'm here.”

His words were soft, as a sigh escaped his lips, making the skin on the back of his neck tingle. He could feel Kuroo shudder in his arms, so he hugged him with a little more force, pulling Kuroo’s hair again and pulling his torsos as tight as the seats allowed. 

_ I'm here. _

* * *

After hugging each other for a while and making Kuroo promise to talk about it later, Kenma was finally able to relax a bit. Even though the bad feeling hadn't completely disappeared — after all, he still didn't know what the hell was going on— Kuroo's promise took a great weight off his shoulders. There was still the possibility that the problem was horrible and insurmountable, so it did not mean that he could stop thinking about it ... Or well, at least it was not enough to lead him to an anxiety attack. 

On the way to the Tokyo Metropolitan Gymnasium, Kenma thought of the thousands of possibilities, analyzing and discarding them according to their logic and probability, until he was left with a few.

The first was that it was something related to his family. Even though Kuroo used to get cranky but not distressed, there was always the slim chance that it was something different from what usually happened in his family circle. The death of a relative, reconciliation between their parents and an imminent return to being a traditional family despite the obvious discomfort? Those options were unpleasant, but it wasn't something they couldn't face together. Kenma knew how to comfort Kuroo, and that Kuroo would be fine as long as he had support and they didn't let him sink. 

The second possibility was something related to studies and university, which scared Kenma a little more. Kuroo had always cared about studying and getting high rankings —not like him; if it wasn’t for the help of that idiotic nerd would have failed science more than once— so it wasn't strange to think that he had high goals, like getting to a prestigious university and things like that. Kenma had once heard him mention that he was interested in economics and business management. 

But what if his grades weren't good enough? Entering university could be difficult, especially because of high demands and demanding careers. It was not unusual to hear the typical story of someone who, no matter how high their grades were, never got off the waiting list or failed the entrance test. They were things that could happen to anyone, and Kuroo was not exempt from it. Kenma wasn't sure what to do in a case like this beyond lending a shoulder to cry on and support Kuroo in whatever decision he made, but it was a salvageable situation. 

Then there was the third and worst possibility: that Kuroo's soulmate mark had appeared. 

“Cover!” 

Kenma blinked, snapping back to reality. Around him, the court roared, and the sound of the ball being hit was enough to knock him out of his train of thought. 

It was the third set, and neither team wanted to give up. Nekoma had won the first set, and Karasuno the second, leaving only the tiebreaker left. As both were almost at the same score, neither had an advantage over the other: every time someone achieved a difference of two or three points, the other would go and close it, in a constant chase for victory. And this had its consequences, the most obvious being the exhaustion of the team from the accumulated minutes playing, and Kenma was beginning to notice it. 

For him, exhaustion meant that his head tried to go elsewhere, ignoring the heaviness of his limbs and the pain in his muscles. He couldn't help it and, although they were fleeting moments where his sight was lost at some infinite point on the court, he knew well how dangerous it was. He didn't want it to end, not now, not after waiting so long for it.

It was the last game, the last battle, there would be time to worry later.

“Azumane-san!”

The ball rose from the hands of Karasuno's libero, Nishinoya, going straight into the hands of his star, Asahi, being spiked and hitting Kuroo and Inuoka's block, shooting out parallel to the net. Kenma held his breath, no matter how much he ran, he wouldn't make it, and his legs were too heavy to even try. The ball eas going to fall to the ground, that was for sure, or so it seemed until Fukunaga jumped to meet it, sending h it flying and back onto the court.

_ It's going to pass the net. _

Kenma followed the ball with his eyes, it seemed to go in slow motion. 

_ It's going to get spiked. _

His head was racing, but his movements felt too awkward, too heavy to do anything useful. 

_ What to do. _

He flexed his legs, jumping, stretching as far as his body allowed. It was not high enough, he would not arrive in time, the ball would fall and hit the ground.

_ Over the net— _

He rose, clawing at the air with his fingers. The ball was almost on top of him; it had to come, it  _ had _ to come. 

_ Bait it out, get the rebound, fall back. _

Hundreds of possibilities passed before Kenma, but the sound of sneakers grinding against the court distracted him, causing his eyes to move on their own. Beside him, Kuroo leapt to catch the ball, stretching his arms to make it pass through the net so that the game did not stop, ignoring the exhaustion of his muscles and the sweat that permeated his skin. Gold and amber met, colliding, merging into a gaze that must have lasted a blink but that, for Kenma, was a pause in time. 

One jump together, something they had done thousands of times in the more than 10 years they had been playing volleyball, something so insignificant in appearance was enough to take Kenma's mind away, back to their games by the river. The summer sun on his face, his scraped knees, his hair sticking to his face with sweat, a set so long that they both ended on the ground, laughing and trying again.

_ Do you want to go do some leveling up? _

Kenma's chest burst into flames and a smile spread across his face,reciprocated by Kuroo. The ball touched Kenma's hand, and he pushed it towards Kuroo who finished it off, but it was received by Nishinoya on the other side of the net. 

The game continued, the possibilities multiplied as the players moved, but Kenma's head was empty. Again and again he returned to the same moment, to that little instant in the air, to Kuroo's eyes, to his smile, to all those memories that had accumulated over the years. Kuroo, who was by his side for as long as he could remember, who was always there for him even when he didn't need it, who always seemed to know what to say and do no matter how complicated the situation was. 

Kuroo, that nerdy idiot who had stolen his heart for no apparent reason. Loving him felt as natural as breathing.

The ball kept moving, about to be finished off by Shōyō and met with Nekoma's three block, but a slight correction in his movement was enough to change the scene. The ball was going to go over the block, it was going to land on an empty part of the court, it would hit the ground and the game would be over. Kenma's legs moved on their own, pulling his body forward despite the exhaustion and gravity pulling on him. The air burned around him, burning his skin, while electric shocks rose up his spine, exploding at the back of his neck. 

_ Up front. Out predicted. Is where he's aiming.  _

Kemma jumped. His feet didn’t go as high as he expected, so he reached out to reach the ball. Waves of electricity ran through his limbs, tensing his muscles to the point where he thought he would explode. He brushed the ball with his fingertips,  but he slipped, falling to the ground as did the ball behind him . It was a point for Karasuno. 

“What a rollercoaster ride of a rally!” 

The voices of the commentators echoed through the huge gymnasium, mingling with the applause and shouts of the audience. His body vibrated, and he could barely stand upright without staggering. It hurt, it hurt like hell, why was everything on fire? 

“Oi, Kenma, are you alright!” 

Another chill ran up his spine when he heard Kuroo's voice, exploding at the back of his neck and sending a tingle all over his body. His legs felt strange, as if they were melting and fusing with the floor. 

“Did you injure yourself somewhere?” 

Kenma could hear the squeak of Kuroo's slippers approaching, and his eyes unconsciously searched for him. He wasn't able to see past her legs, but this was enough to make the fire roar. His body, organs, flesh, bones ... Everything, even the smallest hair of his body vibrated, his heart being the one that set the rhythm. Pleasure mixed with pain, caused his lips to part and release the first thing that came to his mind. 

_ “This is fun.”  _

Silence. He could feel hundreds of glances on him, but he was in a place where anxiety couldn't touch him. Somehow, his mind had been fragmented into millions of little pieces, some of them pending on the game and others on something he could not identify. United and broken at the same time, a whole made of fragments, which — somehow he did not understand — breathed like a living being, in the back of his head. The sensations were confusing, enough that he needed help getting to his feet and reaching the bench when the coach called a time out.

Kenma received both words of encouragement and concern, the latter being the vast majority from Kuroo and Tora, but he wasn't really paying attention. A strange burning had appeared on the back of his neck, a kind of burn without pain. By mere reflex, he reached up with a hand to the affected area, finding only a foul amount of sweat and his damp hair sticking to his skin. In another context, he would have grimaced, but he was too tired. 

Everything hurt. Everything burned. Why did his eyes keep going over and over to Kuro? 

"Revive the hero on the brink of death and fight on ..." Kenma muttered. His mouth had a life of its own, and he was sure he was using less than a quarter of his head. It was chaos at the best of the word. “There are times where those who can no longer fight are revived and fight on.” 

More concerned looks. His head felt heavy, and if he could have, he would have lain on the bench to sleep. The burning on the back of his neck grew, and no matter how hard he scratched it didn't want to leave. Maybe he needs a shower, or some chocolate milk.

"I think ..." he continued, closing his eyes. The roars from the rostrum grew louder, piercing his ears and penetrating his head. With the little strength he had left, Kenma forced himself to focus, picking up the pieces of his mind and putting them back together. “... I'm going to give my apologies to the hero, and hang on for a little longer to fight it out.” 

Kenma opened his eyes again, leaving just a small slit between his lids, but that was enough to see Kuroo wince out of the corner. Well, there was actually Tora too, but he could only focus his attention on Kuroo. The chaos was growing, his mind was falling apart again, and why was his heart beating so fast? 

During the rest of the time out, the team discussed some last-minute strategies, as well as commenting on what they were  learning from the game. Kenma listened more than anything, making a comment from time to time, but concentrating on saving his energy for the set. The itch on the back of his neck was starting to get a bit annoying, and no matter how hard he scratched it didn't seem to go away. 

Allergy, maybe, he thought, standing up when he heard the referee's whistle. The time out had ended and everyone had to return to the court. 

"Oi, Kenma." 

Kuroo's voice was enough to get Kenma's attention and make him stop midway, turning to look at him. Kuroo stared at him silently, holding his gaze, barely blinking. His lips were pursed and his forehead wrinkled, his expression laden with such concern that it seemed to spill from the pores of his skin. Considering that a few minutes ago he had fallen on the court, it was practically a miracle that Kuroo didn't ask Nekomata to take him out.

And Kenma knew it well, he knew that idiot enough to know that he would worry even if he broke a nail, but still he couldn't stop his legs from melting. An electric current ran through his body as soon as their eyes met each other, and his heart seemed ready to jump out of his chest. 

"Kuro," Kenma muttered, more out of reflex than real intention. The itch on the back of his neck turned to a tingle, and his guts became a tangle of knots. 

"You... are you really okay?" Kuroo asked. His fists were clenched at the sides of his body, anguish dancing in his eyes.

"Uh, yeah," Kenma replied, feeling the words heavy against his tongue. From the way Kuroo was looking at him, he had the feeling that there was something else behind his question, that same something that he had seen at dawn. “Why?”

"I..." Kuroo stopped, stretching the 'I' until it died in his mouth. He seemed much more nervous than before, to the point where Kenma could once again feel the snake curl around his chest. This was not exactly a good time for Kuroo to have a crisis.

“You… What?” He asked, to which the other shook his head.

"Nothing, let's go back to the game."

Kenma wanted to answer something, insist and ask what the hell he had wanted to say in the first place but Kuroo was back on the court before he even managed to form a coherent sentence. 

There will be time to worry later, he told himself over and over as he went with the rest of the team. The tingling increased, as did his heartbeat.

* * *

In the end, the garbage dump battle ended with Nekoma's defeat, but they couldn't care less. Each of them — both Nekoma and Karasuno— gave their all on the court, having fun until the last seconds of the set. Winning, losing... It wasn't something that tormented them, not when they'd had a chance to face off and play volleyball against each other once more. 

After months of training, staying up late in the gym practicing and playing until he died, the only things that filled the court after the match were tears and hugs, as well as promises of future battles for years to come. Everyone was happy, and Kenma was no exception. Despite being tired and sweaty to the point the ball slipped from his fingers, he enjoyed every moment of the game. So much that, in a burst of sentimentality that he himself didn't think he had, he ended up telling Kuroo something that no one would have imagined.

_ Thank you, for getting me into volleyball. _

Those words echoed in Kenma's head, accompanied by Kuroo’s expression after hearing them, the surprise and excitement filling his amber eyes. Perhaps most would consider it too simple or silly, —why the fuck was just saying "thank you" incredible after 10 years of playing together?— that something more elaborate would be more poetic and would have been more meaningful at the time, but Kenma knew well that Kuroo did not care about that kind of thing. No pompous words, great displays of affection or great speeches to express their feelings were necessary between them. They had their own way of understanding, maybe different and sometimes strange, but they were fine with that. 

And anyone would have said that such an important moment could not be ruined with anything, that the rest of the day would flow with ease and that it would be an instance for beautiful memories to form, but luck again seemed not to be on Kenma's side. 

The strange symptoms that he had felt after the jump intensified, to the point he ended up with blood and remnants of the first layer of skin under his nails from scratching the back of his neck too much. His head was spinning, and just standing up took enormous effort. He could barely walk a few steps without staggering, and the typical post-game fever was ten times more terrible, causing even the most idiotic —Lev— to realize that something was wrong. And it wasn't that Kenma didn't try to keep up appearances — he had to control himself not to scratch his skin when he went to hand the tablet to Hinata — but exhaustion was starting to get the better of him.

And, as if that wasn’t already stressful enough, seeing a black cloud over Kuroo again only made things worse. 

Just like this morning, Kuroo stared at him without saying anything, looking away as soon as Kenma turned in his direction. He did not speak, and if he did it was only to answer with monosyllables or a concise ‘I don't know’, before turning his eyes to an infinite point in the gym. The only moments he seemed to come back to himself was when they went downstairs to greet Bokuto after the Fukurodani Academy vs Matsuyama match, as they hugged and exchanged a few words, and then upon meeting Daishō in the hallway. 

_ There’ll be time to worry later _ , Kenma repeated over and over, trying to convince himself as he glanced at Kuroo. The headache was turning into a migraine. 

They spent the rest of the day watching the remaining games, returning to the hotel for sunset. Since most were too tired to go home, they decided to stay one more night at the Catnip Hotel. By now, Kenma's discomfort had worsened enough that he could barely keep his eyes open, so he was allowed to bathe first —an agreement between Yaku and Kai, while Kuroo said nothing about it — and go straight to bed. 

In the showers, Kenma rubbed his neck, trying to make the itch go away, but he couldn't do anything no matter how much he rubbed it. Some kind of allergy, maybe? He had never had one before, and he hadn't paid enough attention in biology class to interpret what was happening to him, so he ended up giving up and finished cleaning up. He didn't go near the mirrors to see his reflection, he was sure it must look bad enough to be allowed to use the bathrooms first as a sophomore. 

In the room, he settled in a corner, pulling the futon blanket until he covered his head, falling asleep after a few minutes. 

He dreamed of the ocean, an infinite ocean where he floated aimlessly, letting himself be carried away by the tide. His muscles felt heavy and, no matter how hard he tried to move, his limbs would not obey him. The water was pulling at his body, dragging him to the bottom, entering his nose and mouth. He tried to fight the current, coughing and spitting, but an invisible force seemed to pull him down, sinking him deeper and deeper. The water crushed his chest, ripping the little air that still remained inside his lungs, making him writhe and sob. 

His entire body began to sag from the pressure of the liquid around him, but it was the pain in the back of his neck that brought him back to reality.

Kenma woke up in cold sweats and gasps, feeling as if the skin on the back of his neck was being burned with red-hot iron. He sat bolt upright, his eyes adjusting to the darkness of the room. Moonlight streamed through the space between the curtains, bathing the bodies of his teammates. He could perfectly hear their snoring, as well as his own heart, which was beating at full speed. Blood hummed in his ears, and the pain at the back of his neck only increased.

_ Bathroom _ , Kenma thought, kicking the covers and scrambling to his feet.

His head was spinning, and miraculously he didn't fall flat on his face. His stomach was knotted, and if he had eaten something before going to sleep he would surely be vomiting right now. What the hell was going on? This was nothing like the usual fever that came after games, and he wasn't even sure it was like anything he'd ever experienced before. The back of his neck ached more and more, as if they were trying to pull out the marrow with tweezers.

A faint groan escaped Kenma's lips as he hurried to reach for his phone, nearly falling to the ground when he crouched down. Maybe he could look up the symptoms on the Internet or something like that, or call an ambulance if things got worse. He had no idea how to do it — hopefully he was able to answer the phone without having three seizures — taking his phone with him wouldn’t cost him anything.

Carefully, he moved between the futons of his companions, praying that his legs would support him enough to leave the room without disturbing anyone. The pain in the back of his neck kept growing, and the migraine he had was the equivalent of having his head hit with a hammer. His sight was blurry, curving the shadows around him and giving them strange shapes, which he awkwardly tried to avoid.

How he got into the hallway without falling or stepping on anyone was a mystery, but Kenma didn't think too hard about it. With the cell phone in one hand as a flashlight and the other leaning against the wall, he walked to the bathrooms, using the side of his body to push the door open. He desperately searched for the switch, hissing as the overhead fluorescent tubes lit up the place.

The first thing he saw was his profile in the mirror, his face was sweaty and his hair was stuck to his forehead, then he noticed the unusual redskin on the back of his neck. Reflexively, he reached up, hoping to find the brands he must have made from compulsive scratching, some scab or fresh blood, but what he felt instead froze him.

On his skin, there were _ kanjis _ . 

Kenma's knees buckled, knocking him down onto the tile floor of the cramped bathroom, sending waves of pain down his spine. It was difficult to breathe, and his heart was beating so fast it seemed about to explode.

_ Without a mark, there was nothing to worry about. _

His own words echoed inside his head, as he unlocked his phone and searched for the only contact who could help him in such a situation. Hands shaking, he dialed the numbers, holding the phone to his ear as he bit the inside of his cheek. Blood danced on his tongue, buzzing against his eardrums and deafening him. 

_ Without a name, there was nothing to worry about. _

The call rang once, twice, three times, until they answered.

“Kenma?” Kuroo's hoarse voice was enough to make Kenma break, letting out a weak sob. His eyes burned, and he could barely breathe. “Kenma? What's up? Where are you?”

"Bath," he croaked in response, feeling his throat being crushed by an invisible pressure. Anxiety burned from within, crushing his organs and reducing them to a mass of flesh and tissue. “ _ Please… _ ”

"I'll come right away, don't cut the call," Kuroo replied. In the background, there was a scraping of fabric, followed by blows and the typical heavy breathing of someone exerting themselves. “I'm coming, Kenma, I’m coming.”

Kenma nodded, more reflexively than anything else. He held the phone until it creaked, hearing more bangs and gasps from the other end of the line, plus a couple of curses. The bathroom walls curved around him, closing in, as if they wanted to crush him. He tried to keep his breathing under control, forcing himself to breathe in and out slowly, ignoring the pressure in his chest and the burning in his throat. Having a panic attack was not an option, even more when he was so far from home and didn't know what the hell could happen now.

_ Without a name, there was nothing to worry about. _

Kenma huddled into his pajamas, drawing his knees to his chest and sitting in a fetal position, becoming hyper-aware of the skin on his neck. Just as if it had suffered a burn, it was risen and swollen, taking the indisputable form of kanji. He didn't even have to look in a mirror to know: in biology classes they had seen photographs of soulmate marks with different ages, as well as descriptions of their texture and color. If it had been a simple allergy, he would have felt a rash in no apparent order, but what was on his neck was a far cry from disorder.

On the one hand, he was grateful that he couldn't read only with his touch —discovering the name alone on a hotel bathroom floor was not exactly glorious— but on the other, curiosity gnawed at him inside, mixing with nervousness to form a ball of anxiety deep in his stomach.

_ Without a name, there was nothing to worry about, but what should I do if I already have one? _

He didn't have to wait more than a couple of minutes before Kuroo appeared through the door, panting and holding the phone. They both looked at each other without saying anything, and Kenma could feel the tears welling up in his eyes.

“Where?” Kuroo asked, guessing what was happening without being told anything. Kenma put the phone down, hugging his own legs and shrugging even more. “Where is it?”

"B-Back..." His voice came out shaky, weak, so close to a sob that he saw Kuroo's gaze flood with anguish. “O-On my neck.”

Kuroo nodded, going into the bathroom without asking any more questions and closing the door behind him. For his part, Kenma could only hide his face between his knees, exposing the back of his neck as he closed his eyes, too scared to see such a thing. His heart was pounding, and the constant feeling that he would vomit all his intestines ran up and down, filling his mouth with bile and burning his throat. 

_ Why me? Why right now? _ , Kenma wondered over and over as he dug his nails into his legs over the fabric of his pajamas _. What did I do to make this happen?  _

"I'm going to check, okay?" Kuroo announced. He had moved to stand behind him. Kenma heard him crouch down, and couldn't suppress a shudder as he felt those long fingers slip through his hair, pushing it away. “Don’t worry, it will only be a moment.” 

Kenma nodded weakly, biting the inside of his cheek so hard that the metallic taste of blood filled his mouth. A chill ran down his spine as his hair was pulled away from the affected area, leaving his neck in plain sight. The cold bit on his skin, easing the itchiness he felt but increasing his urge to throw up. He held his breath, waiting for Kuroo to read the name, to say something, but he remained completely silent. 

One, two, three minutes passed, and Kuroo still didn't say a word. The anxiety level within Kenma was through the air, so much so that he didn't think twice about turning and facing his friend, the muscles in his body so tensed they seemed about to explode. 

And what he found was no more reassuring.

Kuroo's lips were pressed into a fine line and his forehead wrinkled, as rivers of tears ran down his face. Kneeled on the floor with his hands on his legs, he dug his nails in his thighs, through the fabric of his pajamas. There was a feeling in his eyes that Kenma couldn't quite identify, but that added to the general scene only made him feel distressed. 

“Kuro?” Kenma asked, his voice broken. Kuroo held his gaze, saying nothing, biting his lip as if trying to hold back the tears already flowing. “W-What is it? What does it say?” 

Kuroo's face contorted, as he looked down at the tiles on the floor. The tears kept falling, and Kenma felt like he was about to fall off a cliff. 

“Kuro?” Kenma tried to put his hand over his friend's, but he pulled away, shaking his head. This was enough to make his heart contract hard, he couldn't breathe. “Kuro, please tell me what it says.” 

Kuroo raised his face, holding his gaze while he parted his lips for a few seconds, before closing them and denying again, then indicating to him to turn around. At this point Kenma wasn't sure how he wasn't having a nervous breakdown yet, but he obeyed the order without question, feeling that at any moment his heart would leap from his chest. 

A light flashed behind him and the distinctive sound that cell phones made when taking a picture made it quite clear to him what was happening so, when he turned around again, his hands went straight to snatch the cell phone away from Kuroo. Hands shaking, he held the device, letting his eyes read the kanji on the photograph of the back of his neck. 

'Kuroo Tetsurō.'

_ Uh? _

A wave of euphoria ran through Kenma's body, so strong that if he had been standing his knees would have buckled. Kuroo was his soulmate, he really was his soulmate.

Kenma raised his face, looking at Kuroo with a blank expression, too overwhelmed by the hurricane of feelings to even know whether he should smile or burst into tears. He looked back at him, his face contorted and more tears running down his cheeks, losing themselves under his jaw and falling into the void. Why the hell did he look so miserable?

An idea suddenly popped into Kenma's head, turning the initial euphoria into anguish, crushing his heart like a long-fingered claw. He felt the air leave his lungs as the walls around him closed on him again.

_ Unrequited soulmate. _

“I am not your—?”

Before he could finish the sentence, Kuroo had already started shaking his head, standing up and bringing his hands to the hem of his pants. There was a moment of awkward silence, where Kenma didn't know what the hell the other was doing or if he should look away out of respect, but when Kuroo's hip came into view he understood.

'Kenma Kozume.'

“I am your...? Are we’re...?” Kuroo nodded over and over again, his lips tightening into a grimace that must have been a smile. Kenma was looking at him as if he had grown a third arm. “So why the hell are you crying?”

"I-I ..." Kuroo's voice trembled, enough for Kenma to think of hundreds of horrible possibilities. Maybe Kuroo didn't want him as a soulmate, maybe he was in love with someone else and now he couldn't be happy, maybe he was disgusted that Kenma was his soulmate. Kenma's heart contracted painfully,  _ what had he done to deserve this? _ “I-I don't know, I just…”

“If you don't want to be with me, that's fine," Kenma muttered, feeling each word like a stab. He wanted to cry, but held back. He didn't want Kuroo to feel guilty, not when things like that were out of his control. “We can be...  _ platonic soulmates _ , I don't mi—”

“No, no!” Kuroo exclaimed suddenly, making Kenma wince.

Silence. They both looked at each other without saying anything, while the tension around them only grew. Kuroo blushed to his ears, his face so red that he looked more like a tomato than a person.

"I-I ..." Kuroo stammered, looking down. He was playing with his fingers, in a way that was starting to make Kenma nervous. If he hadn't understood what was happening before, now he was floating into the void. “I-I've had the mark for years, and—”

“ _ Years? _ ” Kenma asked, to which Kuroo nodded. His heart contracted even more, how long had Kuroo been hiding that from him? “Why didn't you tell me?”

"I didn't want to pressure you," he replied, pressing his lips together in a grimace that hovered between apology and embarrassment. “Also, I did not know if I was your soulmate. I didn’t want to predispose you to that, in case it was someone else in the end, and that you didn’t want to be with that person for me.”

"Kuro…" The name escaped Kenma's lips as a sigh, as he felt his heart skip. In another context, he would have been carried away by the butterflies in his stomach and Kuroo's tenderness, but his head had the great idea of remembering what happened in the early morning, tying up the dots and understanding the reason behind Kuroo's strange action. “ ... Wait, did you think Shōyō would be my soulmate?”

"U-Uh ..." The fact that Kuroo's face flushed even more was enough to prove his point. Kenma wasn't sure what expression he put on at the time, but it was enough for Kuroo to start explaining as if his life depended on it. “And you know! You and the shrimp get along so well that I thought ‘oh, they would be adorable soulmates’, and then I remembered that you are my soulmate.”

"Kuro…”

"And I thought 'if something happened, Kenma would tell me, we made a promise’," Kuroo continued, completely ignoring Kenma. “Sure, it’s not because you get along with someone that they will necessarily be your soulmate, but you kept talking to him, and I’ve never seen you so happy!”

“Kuro.”

“And I said ‘well, if it happens, so what’, but then I felt horrible because I really like you, and I really want to spend the rest of my life with you.” Kuroo spoke faster and faster, gesturing hysterically with his hands. “And, well, the idea of being an unrequited soulmate spun around my head so much that it got the better of me and I ended up having a meltdown in front of you and—”

“ _ Kuro! _ ” 

Kuroo snapped his mouth shut, looking at Kenma nervously. Kenma sighed, putting his hands on the cold floor to stand up. His head still felt a little heavy, but it wasn't something he couldn't bear. He looked at Kuroo in silence for a few moments. He seemed about to have a mental breakdown, so Kenma chose his words carefully.

"First, Shōyō already has his soulmate," Kenma began, using his fingers to number the points. “Second, unrequited soulmates are not common.”

"But it can happen," Kuroo replied, to which Kenma snorted.

"That doesn't invalidate what I said," he continued, frowning. He paused for a few moments, organizing his thoughts and feeling his face burn at what followed. “Third ... do you really like me?”

“Of co—!” Kuroo stopped mid-sentence, blinking and realizing what he was about to say. If he was red before, now he looked like a ripe tomato. “O-Of course I like you, you are very cute and cool and intelligent and…”

Silence fell between them, and it was Kenma who was blushing now. They held their gaze for a moment, before shifting it anywhere that didn't involve looking into each other's eyes. Kenma could hear his heartbeat with eerie clarity, and he was pretty sure Kuroo could hear it too.

Confessing in a bathroom,  _ how romantic _ , Kenma thought, biting the inside of his cheek. Not even all the  _ otome  _ games in the world would have prepared him for such a situation, and even less with Kuroo being the culprit. It was both absurd and perfect at the same time.

“Then what do you want to do?” Kuroo asked, breaking the silence. Kenma blinked, looking him straight in the eye, which made the other immediately nervous. “I-I mean, I'm not going to force you to anything. I'll be happy if you want to maintain a platonic soulmate relationship, I—”

"I like you too" Kenma muttered, feeling his ears heat up. He had no idea how he'd been able to say that without fainting, but there was no time to analyze it. “I don't mind being romantic soulmates... If you're okay with that, of course.”

“Yes, of course!”

Another silence. They both blushed again and looked away.

Kenma fiddled with his fingers, squeezing and pulling until he heard his joints creak. In theory, the hardest part was over, but what should he do now? Approach Kuroo and hold his hands? That was too simple for a love confession. Kiss him? The very idea made his knees buckle and he was sure he would vomit from nervousness, and a puke kiss was not at all tempting.

_ What should I do? _

And, as if luck had taken pity on his poor soul, an idea popped into Kenma's head.

“Can I... _ hug you? _ ” That question escaped Kenma's lips before he even thought about the consequences, or how fucking sad and embarrassing it was to ask for a hug.

“Uh?” Kuroo blinked in confusion, which only made Kenma blush more.

“Can I hug you, Kuro?” He repeated louder, feeling the heat rise up his neck. Kuroo stared blankly at him for a few moments, before understanding what he was referring to.

“A-Ah, sure!” Kuroo replied, his voice shaking. “You can... hug me.”

Kenma nodded, looking down, taking a few seconds to regain control of his legs and close the distance between himself and Kuroo. He approached with short, timid steps, feeling his heart in his throat when he was in front of Kuroo's chest. There was a moment of silence where neither of them moved, until Kenma dared and took the initiative, wrapping his slim arms around Kuroo's torso and resting his cheek against his chest. For his part, Kuroo took a few seconds to reciprocate the hug, clumsily surrounding Kenma with his huge arms, releasing a soft sigh as he rested his chin on the other's head.

And so they remained like this for a long time, in silence, enjoying each other's closeness. A thousand thoughts ran through Kenma's head, words he wanted to say but felt too silly or corny to come from him, so he preferred to keep them in his heart. He closed his eyes, inhaling Kuroo's perfume and letting himself be carried away by the moment, so far that he forgot about the headache and accumulated fatigue of the nationals. 

_ After all, it was you, it has always been you. _

**Author's Note:**

> Special thanks to [Nikki](https://twitter.com/RainyQuora), [Florian](https://twitter.com/Fur_Florian) and [Noémie](https://twitter.com/_no0emiie) for the beta reading!!! 
> 
> Here's my [Twitter](https://twitter.com/BlastyCatt?s=09). I have cc if you wanna drop some comments, questions... it's always open. Thanks for reading!!!


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